


Dusk

by BlazinFae



Series: Dawn/Dusk [2]
Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies)
Genre: Multi, We goin with the fellowship fellas.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:29:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 17
Words: 32,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27623420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlazinFae/pseuds/BlazinFae
Summary: Dawn who by now has settled down and gotten married with children, surprise visits her old friend Bilbo on his 111th birthday, only to discover that she never settled down at all, just became hungry for more adventure.So an adventure she has, along with Bilbo's nephew, three of his friends, her brother, her own nephew, a kid she met six decades ago, gandalf, and a man she has never met before. This adventure proves to be a bit higher stakes than the last however. It might even be too much.
Relationships: Gimli (Son of Glóin)/Legolas Greenleaf, Thorin Oakenshield/Original Character(s)
Series: Dawn/Dusk [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1673419
Comments: 5
Kudos: 2





	1. People usually call me queen, but disturber of the peace is fine.

**Author's Note:**

> Good evening my good friends. You have the sequel to Dawn. If you haven't read it yet, you can find it here:
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/22744648
> 
> Same as with that story: 
> 
> ~text like this is meant to be in Elvish.~  
> *text like this is meant to be in Khuzdul, or Dwarfish.*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo, you've found the sequel to Dawn. If you haven't read that yet, I suggest you do or the cheap callbacks I make won't make a lick of sense.

It was sixty years after the Battle of the Five Armies, and the first time in thirty that I found myself on the western side of the Misty Mountains. Without Thorin, that is.  
We had sent a letter ahead telling Bilbo that we wouldn't be able to make it to his birthday because of delicate diplomatic situations that needed handling. Those were cancelled last minute, so I decided that I could still make it to Bilbo's in time, if I hurried.  
I was, naturally, completely laden with gifts from both my family and the old Company. From those of us who were still alive.

I had only very briefly and secretly stayed at Rivendell, because Elrond and Lindir would keep me too long if I let them know I was in the neighbourhood. By now I was in the Shire already and very nearly to Bag End, where I encountered Gandalf with presumably the same heading. He was humming a tune that I believe Bofur had made up after the journey. It had become popular over time, even outside of Dwarven taverns.  
I began singing the lyrics to both alert Gandalf of my presence and bring myself a dose of nostalgia.

"The Road goes ever on and on,  
Down from the door where it began.  
Now far ahead the Road has gone,  
And I must follow, if I can,  
Pursuing it with eager feet,  
Until it joins some larger way  
Where many paths and errands meet.  
And whither then? I cannot say."

"Dawn the Huntress, Queen Under the Mountain. I never expected to find you on this side of the Misty Mountains by yourself." Gandalf was clearly surprised to see me, but happy none the less.  
"Oh, come on, Gandalf, it's just Dawn for you. You didn't think I'd miss old Bilbo's birthday, did you?" I smiled at him. "Anyway, how long has it been since we last saw each other? You missed my wedding, so fifty years at least."  
"The better part of a century, I believe. Well, you got my fireworks, did you not? Besides, the only thing that's changed about you is the ring you wear around finger and the way you do your hair. And perhaps your accent, just slightly," he teased. "You also count in years instead of decades now."

I looked down at the mithril ring that covered all of my lower finger. Laid in was a piece of the Arkenstone. Thorin thought he still had to prove that his love for me was greater than his love of gold. Even after I repeatedly told him he didn't have to, because I knew. Both of our children had gotten a piece too, on their twentieth birthdays.  
His ring was just as special. Made from interwoven young twigs of the oldest tree in Mirkwood, the Queen's Tree. Said to be ever-living. It also had three of the white gems laid in.  
"Six decades of living around no one but Dwarves will do that to you," I defended myself against Gandalf's jests, putting the emphasis on the word decades. "If you think my accent is funny you should hear Tauriel. She calls me lass!" 

I slowed my horse so it trotted next to Gandalf's wagon. "You know, I hear versions of the tale where Thorin slew the dragon with nothing but a rusty sword and a broken shield."  
"Not from the people of Dale, I presume?" Gandalf asked with amusement.  
"No, from Thorin. He twists the truth a little when he's talking to our grandnieces and nephews when he's had a few drinks too many."  
"And you don't correct him?"  
"Only when he paints himself as an intelligent strategist instead of the man who ran into the Pale Orc's waiting arms."

We rode through the spring forest in a comfortable silence, only disturbed by Gandalf who began to hum the song Bofur had started in Rivendell.  
I softly mumbled the lyrics that came with the tune but other than that, we rode in silence, but only until a young Hobbit burst out of the undergrowth and walked along the trail on Gandalf's side.  
"You're late," he berated Gandalf.

Gandalf glowered at Frodo. "A wizard is never late, nor is he early. He arrives precisely when he means to."  
They looked at each other for a bit before they both started laughing. "It's wonderful to see you Gandalf!" Frodo exclaimed before he hopped on the cart next to Gandalf.  
Frodo only now saw me. "Auntie Dawn? We thought you all couldn't make it!"  
"It is only me, but I did bring cards and letters from the others," I explained. "Oh, and gifts, of course." Frodo seemed happy enough, if a little disappointed that I didn't bring all his Dwarven uncles.

We reached the outskirts of West-Farthing while Frodo bombarded Gandalf with questions. "What's new in the world? Tell me everything!"  
Gandalf looked down at Frodo. "What, everything? Far too eager and curious for a Hobbit. Most unnatural," he paused for a bit and sighed with an annoyance that Frodo and I both knew was fake. "Well, what can I tell you? Life in the wide world goes on much as it has this past age. Full of its own comings and goings, scarcely even aware of the existence of Hobbits, for which I am very thankful."

I looked around the fields and villages of the Shire with fondness. If I hadn't married Thorin, or been too tall to navigate the homes comfortably, I certainly would have moved here.  
"So, how is the old rascal? I hear this is to be a party of special magnificence." Gandalf continued.  
"You know Bilbo. He's got the whole place in an uproar." Frodo seemed quite exited for the party.  
"Well, that should please him."  
"Half the Shire's been invited. And the rest of them are turning up anyway," Frodo told us. “To tell you the truth, Bilbo's been a bit odd lately. I mean, more than usual. He's taken to locking himself in his study," Frodo continued, with an edge of worry lacing his tone. "He spends hours poring over old maps when he thinks I'm not looking," he paused. "He's up to something."

Gandalf gave me a knowing look, but told Frodo nothing. I didn't know about Bilbo going anywhere, so I was just as confused as Frodo, though I did not show it.  
"All right then, keep your secrets." Frodo smiled.  
"What?" Gandalf feigned innocence.  
"But I know you two have something to do with it."  
I gave him a look of mock-offense.  
"Before you came along, we Bagginses were very well thought of. Never had any adventures or did anything unexpected," Frodo explained fondly.  
"If you're referring to the incident with the Dragon, I was barely involved. All I did was give your uncle a little nudge out the door. Dawn is the one that travelled with your uncle."  
"Oh, really now Gandalf? The way I remember it, you stayed with us until Mirkwood," I said with a sly sideways grin. "And then there was that battle. I seem to remember catching a glimpse of you there."  
"Whatever you did, you've been officially labelled a disturber of the peace." Frodo looked like he was having trouble not bursting into laughter.  
"Oh, really?" said Gandalf, who did not at all seem surprised. 

We pressed on through the rolling hills and the welcoming scents of the Shire. A group of small children chased after the cart. Begging Gandalf for fireworks.  
When he didn't budge, I turned around on my horse so that I was now sitting backwards. The kids looked confused when I winked at them, but they cheered when I cast a small fire spell that set off a few of Gandalf's smaller rockets.  
When I turned around again, Gandalf looked displeased, but I could see the amusement in eyes so I flashed him a toothy grin.

"Gandalf, I'm glad you're back," Frodo said before he jumped from the cart and disappeared.  
"So am I, dear boy, so am I," mumbled Gandalf.  
We rode on until we reached Bag End. Where I hopped off my horse and slung the bag with Bilbo's presents over my shoulder. Gandalf knocked on the door with his staff. The rune was still there, painted over and re-etched time and time again.  
"No thank you! I don't want any more visitors, well-wishers or distant relations." Bilbo sounded quite cranky.  
"And what about very old friends?" Gandalf asked.  
"Should we not have bothered knocking?" I added.

Suddenly, the door opened and Bilbo stood in the hole. He didn't look a day older than last I saw him, which was just as well. I wouldn't know what I'd do if our letters back and forth stopped.  
"Dawn?"  
"Bilbo?"  
"Gandalf?"  
"Bilbo Baggins!"  
"Oh, my dear Dawn and Gandalf!" He dashed out the doorway and squeezed us into a tight hug. Gandalf dropped to his knee while I bent over a bit, and hugged him back.  
"It's good to see you my friend," I said into his neck.  
Gandalf broke the embrace and looked down fondly at Bilbo. "One hundred and eleven years old, who would believe it?" he smiled. "You haven't aged a day."  
Bilbo bid us inside. "Come in. Come in. Welcome! How's Thorin? I haven't seen the guy since the last time we celebrated the anniversary last year! How are your children? Any grandchildren yet? And how is Kili's daughter, little Kahlahari?"

I went in the house and chuckled at his questions. "Thorin is really well, but he grows old. The kids are good, but if I have grandchildren, I will have a stern word with them. When I was their age, I could barely shoot straight," I told him. I guess they would age faster than I would, but forty or forty-tree were no ages for an Elf to have children. Even if they're only half-Elf.  
"Little Kahlahari is me. The kid is taller than I am," I continued answering all of Bilbo's questions. Kahlahari was actually an adult, even by just-Elven standards, but given I was her great-aunt, I was allowed to call her kid.  
"Don't you read your letters? Oh, and I've got gifts from me and the lads." I put the bag on the table. Bilbo looked through it with a big smile on his face.  
Gandalf held a smirk on his face. "What?" I asked. When his smirk grew wider it dawned on me. "Oh, shut it you."

I said lads, didn't I? 

"Good, good. Tea? Or maybe something a little stronger. I've got a few bottles of the old Wi-" Bilbo disappeared into the kitchen as Gandalf and me looked around enjoying the familiarity of Bag End.  
Gandalf turned, knocking his head on the light and then walking into the wooden beam. He groaned while I laughed at him.  
"I was expecting you last week. Not that it matters, you come and go as you please, always have done, always will. and I wasn't expecting you at all Dawn. Pleasant surprise. You've caught me a bit unprepared, I'm afraid, we've only got cold chicken, bit of pickle, some cheese here. Ooh, no, that might be a little risky-" Bilbo rambled.  
"Just tea's fine Bilbo," I chuckled.

"Alright." He went off to the kitchens again. "How's the brothers, Fili and Kili? And the rest of the Company?"  
"The boys are good." I made a special fuss about putting an emphasis on the word boys. "Fili met a girl not too long ago, they really seem to like each other. To be honest, I haven't heard from Balin and the rest of them since he became the lord of Moria."  
"Sorry to hear tha-" Bilbo got cut off by a curt and impatient knock on the door.  
"Bilbo Baggins! You open this door!" a high female voice screeched.  
Bilbo looked white as a sheet. "I'm not here!" he hissed and tried to hide.  
Gandalf chuckled as Bilbo crept to a window to see who it was exactly. "It's the Sackville-Bagginses!" Bilbo hissed.  
"I know you're in there!" piped the woman.  
"They're after the house. They've never forgiven me for living this  
long," Bilbo whispered.

Gandalf and I watched, amused, as our friend tried to hide.  
"I've got to get away from these confounded relatives, hanging on the bell all day, never giving me a moment's peace. I want to see mountains again, mountains, Dawn. And then find somewhere quiet where I can finish my book. Oh, Tea!" Bilbo told me intensely, hanging to my shirt, before scrambling of again to make us tea.  
"So, you mean to go through with your plan, then?" asked Gandalf.

What plan?

"Yes, yes. It's all in hand. All the arrangements are made," Bilbo's voice sounded from the kitchen.  
"What plans and what arrangements? You said you wanted to see mountains again." I paused before my eyes grew wide. "You're going to live with us in Erebor!" I concluded.  
"Yes. If you won't mind, of course," Bilbo said. Thorin had probably wanted to keep it a surprise for me.  
"Of course I don't mind! You'll find that it's not nice and quiet though."  
"Frodo suspects something," warned Gandalf.  
"'Course he does, he's a Baggins, not some blockheaded Bracegirdle from Hardbottle!" Bilbo retorted.  
"You will tell him, won't you?"  
"Yes, yes." Gandalf wasn't convinced.  
"He's very fond of you."  
"I know. He'd probably come with me if I asked him. I think, in his heart, Frodo's still in love with the Shire, the woods and the fields, little rivers." 

I went to stand in the doorway between the entrance hall and the kitchen. There I saw Bilbo gazing out of the kitchen window.  
"I am old, Gandalf." He looked at both of us sadly. "I know I don't look it, but I'm beginning to feel it in my heart. I feel thin, sort of, stretched, like butter scraped over too much bread. I need a holiday, a very long holiday, and I don't expect I shall return, in fact, I mean not to."  
I gave him a sympathetic look. The disadvantage that came with Elvish immortality was that, if all goes well, you get to see all your non-Elvish friends and loved-ones die long before you even show signs of aging. I was afraid that Bilbo might not be able to make it to the Lonely Mountain again. 

I saw Bilbo's fingers close around his waistcoat pocket, gripping at something.


	2. So that's how that sneaky bastard kept sneaking around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just gonna post what I have and see if that motivates me to finish the damn thing. Chapter 15 has sat there unedited since april of last year, so don't get your hopes up.

Bilbo and Gandalf were smoking on the porch while I admired the large oak tree on Bilbo's roof. I still remembered the first time I noticed it was planted, and its size has since caught me by surprise every time.  
Eventually it was time to go to the party. I could see from his face that Bilbo absolutely didn't want to go. I understood that. At our own wedding, Thorin and I had invited way too many people who absolutely did not like each other. But when most of them were gone and the wine and ale were brought out, I had the time of my life, along with the most fun I ever had.

I didn't know many of these people. Only Bilbo, Frodo and Gandalf. So, I just hung around Bilbo. He sat on a chair with a small crowd of children around him, telling them the story of the Trolls.  
"So, there I was, at the mercy of three monstrous Trolls," he interrupted himself. "Have you ever heard of a Troll? Do you know what a Troll is? Great big nasty twenty-foot-high smelly things, and they're arguing, arguing about how they were going to cook us!" Bilbo told the story with excessive hand gestures to lay emphasis on the right parts. "Whether it be turned on a spit or minced in a pie or whether they were going to sit on us one by one and squash us into jelly! They spent so long arguing the whither-to's and why-fors that the sun's first light cracked over the top of the trees-" he indicated an explosion with his hands, "-and turned them all to stone!"  
He earned stunned gasps from his young audience. I decided to add something to the story. "You forget my friend, that it was you who started that argument. If it wasn't for your quick wit, we'd all have been eaten." Bilbo brushed my praise aside.

I went to go find an ale. Instead, I found two Hobbits acting rather suspicious. I decided to investigate.  
One of them was in the back of Gandalf's cart and held up a small firework. I jumped to the seat of the cart and grabbed a big dragon shaped one that I recognized. So, Gandalf still made them like this. "I think you'll find this one much more interesting," I suggested.  
They had only now noticed me and were startled at first. Until they realised that my intentions were of the same mischief as theirs and they grinned wickedly at the firework. They took it and ran off.  
I set off on a quest for ale again.  
When I finally found one, the boys had also completed their journey. The tent next to me flew up into night sky carried by a big firework. It broke out into the shape of a golden dragon with fire coming from its nostrils. It turned around and made for the crowd.  
Everyone dove to the ground; tables were overturned and food flew everywhere.  
Far in the distance, the dragon exploded into one of the highest concentrations of golden sparks I had ever seen. A true classic. It was my favourite at the wedding. I turned back to the place where the tent was and saw the two boys sitting on the ground with blackened faces and hair.

"That was good!"  
"Let's get another one!"  
Gandalf came up behind them before they could get up though. "Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took," he addressed them in a stern voice.  
"It was her idea!" Said one of them as I tried to sneak away. I turned around with an innocent grin that I knew wasn't fooling anyone. "Who me? Absolutely not, I only picked it out for them."  
"I might have known," sighed Gandalf.  
"Cheers to that." I raised my glass and drank from it. It wasn't very big, so I got another one.

From behind me, people chanted for Bilbo to give a speech. I jumped and sat on the barrel of ale and watched as Bilbo stood raised above the rest of the Shire people.  
He began to address all the families that were there before his speech started. "Today is my one hundred and eleventh birthday. I am eleventy-one today! Yes, and alas, Eleventy-one years is far too short a time to live among such excellent and admirable Hobbits!" A tremendous outburst of approval sounded from everyone present.  
Bilbo went on. "I don't know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve!" The applause was lesser this time as the guests tried to work out if that was a compliment or not. I smiled to myself in amusement.  
Bilbo pulled something out of his pocket and held it behind his back. "I have things to do and I have put this off for far too long. I regret to announce this is the end. I am going now. I bid you all a very fond farewell!"  
So, he was going to be dramatic and mysterious about it, eh?

He looked hesitant but eventually he bid us goodbye and vanished into thin air. I was so far taken aback that I nearly fell off the barrel. The crowd went wild. I sat rooted to the spot until I felt a tugging on my sleeve. I thought nothing of it at first, but then it happened again.  
The invisible force pulled me gently towards Bag End when I started following it. Once inside, Bilbo reappeared. He tossed a ring in the air and put it in his coat pocket.  
I closed the door behind me and crossed my arms. Rather than shocked, I was now unimpressed by Bilbo's dramatics. Well, I was impressed, but I wanted to give him the idea that I disagreed, which I did not.   
Bilbo went to another room to grab something and I quietly opened the door for Gandalf. "I suppose you think that was terribly clever?" he asked when Bilbo came back in.  
"Come on, Gandalf, did you see their faces?" laughed Bilbo.  
"There are many magic rings in this world, Bilbo Baggins, and none of them should be used lightly," Gandalf warned.   
"It was just a bit of fun. Oh, you’re probably right, as usual. You will keep an eye on Frodo, won't you?"  
"Two eyes. As often as I can spare them. Perhaps even four, when Dawn can spare hers."  
"From the other side of Middle Earth? The boy might as well come with us. Ah well, I'll see what I can do." 

"I'm leaving everything to him," Bilbo explained.   
"What about this ring of yours? Is that staying too?" Gandalf asked.   
Bilbo gave Gandalf a look and nodded towards the hearth. "Yes, yes, it's in an envelope, over there on the mantelpiece."  
Gandalf looked to see no envelope. I knew that the ring was in Bilbo's pocket and about to point it out when Bilbo did so himself. "No, wait. It’s here in my pocket. Isn't that, isn’t that odd, now?" he started guiltily. "Yet, after all, why not? Why shouldn't I keep it?" His continuation was more laced with greed.   
"I think you should leave the Ring behind, Bilbo. Is that so hard?"   
"Well, no, and yes. Now that it comes to it, I don't feel like parting with it. It’s mine. I found it. It came to me!" Bilbo sounded a bit aggravated. This was not how I knew Bilbo. Gandalf and I gave each other a look of concern before simultaneously directing it at Bilbo, who was caressing the ring.  
"There's no need to get angry," Gandalf tried to calm Bilbo but it very clearly did not work.   
"Well, if I'm angry, it's your fault! It's mine. My own, my precious." His iteration of precious was slightly disturbing. I was getting flashbacks to how Thorin's voice had sounded similar to Smaug when he caught the Dragon-sickness. Gandalf thought it was weird too, but worded it better than I could have. 

"Precious? It's been called that before, but not by you." By who then I did not know. Maybe Smaug, but I feel like I'd remember.  
"What business is it of yours what I do with my own things?" Bilbo's voice had changed. He stood hunched over and looked at with his eyes full of distrust.  
"I think you've had that ring quite long enough," I stated, moving forward to take it, Gandalf stopped me, I didn't understand, but I didn't argue it either.   
"You want it for yourself!" shrieked Bilbo at the both of us. Gandalf rose to his full height, his eyes flashed, his shadow suddenly seemed to fill the room. "Bilbo Baggins, do not take me for some cheap conjurer of tricks!" I never quite got the hang of that intimidating stuff. Gandalf said that was because I was too short. A case could be made for that. After all, it did work on Thorin, occasionally, but that might be because I killed someone thrice the size of me before his eyes when I was properly pissed. It was also a last-resort parenting trick for when even the power of Thorin's thundering dad-voice had no effect on Frèrin and Dís's misbehaviour.   
Bilbo cowered away from Gandalf, intimidated by his power. Gandalf's expression softened. "We are not trying to rob you. We are trying to help you."   
Bilbo ran to me sobbing and hugged me. "All your long years we’ve been friends, trust us as you once did. Let it go," I pleaded into his neck.   
"You're right, Dawn. The Ring must go to Frodo." He lifted his knapsack and headed for the front door. "It's late, the road is long, yes, it is time."   
"Bilbo?"   
"Hmmm?"   
"The ring is still in your pocket."  
"Oh, yes.” Bilbo pulled out the ring and stared at it in his palm. With all his will power, Bilbo allowed the ring to slowly slide off his palm and drop to the floor. It landed with a heavy thud on the tiles and didn't bounce away. Exactly how heavy was this thing? 

Bilbo staggered out of Bag End. He braced himself in the night air, Paler than before and trembling, as if his loss of the ring had weakened him. Gandalf and I stepped out after him.   
Bilbo turned to face us. "I've thought up an ending for my book: “And he lived happily ever after to the end of his days.”"   
"And I'm sure he will, my dear friend," I smiled at him.   
"Goodbye, Dawn, Gandalf."   
"Goodbye, Bilbo."   
Bilbo walked away from Bag End, disappearing into the night, softly singing The Road goes on. The song never seemed to die.

Get out of my head, Bofur!


	3. As is well established, being vague and cryptic does not help me understand what you want of me.

I went to follow him to make sure he reaches Erebor safely but Gandalf stopped me again.  
"What is it Gandalf?" I asked. He just went inside and bid me to follow. The Ring glittered on the floor. Gandalf circled around it with a puzzled look on his face. I slowly reached forward to grab the ring. My fingers barely touched the ring, or a loud humming sound filled my ears. I quickly jerked my hand back. 

Gandalf sat in front of the fire with his pipe, staring into the flickering flames. I joined him, leaving the ring where it lay. Bilbo's words echoed through my head. "It's mine, my own, my precious."  
Gandalf muttered to himself. "Riddles in the dark." I was about to ask him what that meant when Frodo burst through the door. "Bilbo! Bilbo!" He stopped and picked up the ring at his feet. Gandalf continued to stare into the fire, as if locked in thought. I looked between them, still not sure what the hell was happening and why I wasn't with Bilbo.

Gandalf continued muttering.

"He's gone, hasn't he?" asked Frodo sadly. He walked into the living room and stood behind us. "He talked for so long about leaving, I didn't think he'd really do it."  
Gandalf continued muttering and being no help in comforting Frodo, so I tried best I could.  
"Gandalf?"  
Gandalf turned, his eyes locking onto the ring in Frodo's hand. "Bilbo's ring."  
Gandalf sifted hurriedly through Bilbo's papers, maps and notebooks. "He's gone to stay with the Dwarves, where Dawn lives. He's left you Bag End." He paused and held out an envelope which Frodo dropped the ring into. "Along with all his possessions," he continued. Gandalf sealed the envelope with wax and handed it to Frodo.  
"The ring is yours now. Put it somewhere out of sight."

Gandalf rose hurriedly and started to gather his things. I grabbed my cloak and my satchel.  
"Where are you going?" Frodo and I asked in unison, though the former asked us both and I asked only Gandalf.  
"There are things I must to see to." There, nice and cryptic.  
Frodo was confused, understandably. "What things?"  
"Questions. Questions that need answering."  
That wasn't much better.  
"But you've only just arrived! I don't understand..." Neither did I. But Gandalf was already at the door, he turned to Frodo.  
"Neither do I. Keep it secret, Keep it safe. Dawn, you stay here, keep an eye on Frodo." Gandalf hurried out the door leaving Frodo and me none the wiser.  
Great, that makes three of us who are very confused as to what Gandalf is doing, among whom, Gandalf himself! 

In my own opinion, I had to get going. Make sure Bilbo at least reaches Rivendell. From there he could probably talk Elrond into giving him a guard that would escort him. But Gandalf sounded serious, so I decided to listen for a change. Also, I have responsibilities now. I have children. Adult children but children none the less. Also, I missed Thorin and I had my duties to attend to as queen of Erebor.  
Gandalf had hurried out the door. When he hadn't returned within a week, I sent a letter to Erebor explaining that I'd be back a bit later, that Bilbo was coming, that I missed everyone and loved them dearly. Gandalf was gone for so long that I even got a reply. Thorin wrote that he loved me too and told me not to get into trouble, not without him at least. 

Frodo took me to the tavern one night to spend the evening with his friends, and to apologise for the beds being too small. I had an ale or two and joked with Merry and Pippin. Eventually, the idiots were drunkenly dancing and singing on the table, holding each other upright. The other drunk Hobbits were singing along.  
"Hey ho, to the bottle I go!  
To heal my heart and drown my woe. Rain may fall and wind may blow.  
But there still be many miles to go!  
Sweet is the sound of the pouring rain,  
and the stream that falls from hill to plain.  
Better than rain or rippling brook –"  
"is a mug of beer inside this Took!" Pippin finished the song.

As we later left the bar, Sam eyed the barmaid with warmth in his eyes. She bid the last of the patrons goodbye. One very drunk Hobbit flirted with her. "Goodnight, sweet maiden of the golden ale."  
I could tell that Sam didn't like it. "Mind who you're sweet-talking," he grumbled softly. Loud enough for Frodo to hear though. "Don't worry Sam, Rosie knows an idiot when she sees one." That didn't comfort Sam at all. He looked rather worried.  
"Does she?"

Frodo and I bid Sam good bye at the gate of Bag End and stepped inside. I immediately saw Gandalf lurking in the shadows. Before I could greet him, he grabbed Frodo, who was hanging up his coat, and spun him around. He stepped into a shaft of moonlight and whispered urgently. "Is it secret? Is it safe?"  
His clothes were tattered and smeared with mud. His hair and beard had grown longer and were unkempt. "You look... dashing..." I told him.  
He ignored my comment as Frodo dug through a chest, looking for the envelope with the ring. When he revealed it to Gandalf, he immediately threw it into the fireplace.  
Frodo looked at me bewildered. I shrugged. That's Gandalf for you. Besides, a normal fireplace isn't hot enough to melt metals. Frodo needn't worry about the state of his ring.  
"What are you doing?" asked Frodo, still in shock. Instead of answering, Gandalf pulled the ring out and told Frodo to hold his hand out. "Don't worry, it's quite cool," he insisted when Frodo hesitated.  
He dropped the ring on Frodo's hand and turned away. "What can you see? Can you see anything?"

"Why did you turn away if you want to know what there is to see on the damn thing?" I complained before turning my attention to the ring. To my amazement, some sort of markings did appear. Frodo reported it. As the markings grew in clarity, I could begin to make out what they said, as they were in a version of ancient Sindarin, just like the spells I studied. The more powerful and morally questionable ones.  
"It's some of form of Elvish, I can't read it." Frodo was still confused, and Gandalf was white a sheet. He didn't explain, so I did, to the best of my ability.  
"Well, you are right, it's an ancient form of Elvish, however I could be in error. Roughly translated, it says: One Ring to rule them all. One Ring to find them. One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them. Whatever that means." I had heard that before somewhere. Maybe in history lessons or in some dusty tome in Isengard. I couldn't recall any context though, but I was very certain that I had heard it before. 

Frodo didn't seem any less confused, neither was I. I didn't know it was still possible, but when I looked to Gandalf, he was even paler than before. I moved to grab the ring, to get a closer look at it. Maybe I read it wrong, because what I just said made not a single ounce of sense to me.  
When I nearly touched it, Gandalf roughly pulled my hand back. "No Dawn, don't touch it!" he yelled in panic. I was startled and janked my hand free while Frodo put the Ring on the kitchen table. Gandalf sat back in the chair by the fire and I sat down on the rug in front of it. When Frodo returned from the kitchen, Gandalf began to explain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the books by Tolkien, and arguably the movies too, Gandalf actually stayed gone for seventeen years, which I found far too long to be plausible for this particular narrative, so three to four months at most is the yime frame here.


	4. Something something, end of the world.

"The markings on the Ring were in the language of Mordor, there are few who can read it. Dawn's translation into the Common Tongue was quite correct. One Ring to rule them all. One Ring to find them. One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them," Gandalf explained.   
"But what does it mean?" I asked. "Nothing good, I trust?"  
"This is the One Ring, forged by the Dark Lord Sauron, in the fires of Mount Doom, taken by Isildur from the hand of Sauron himself."

"Bilbo must've found it in the Goblin cave, when we lost him," I thought aloud. My confusion was more or less gone. I didn't know much about the Rings of Power, just that uncle Elrond and lady Galadriel each had one. What they were for I had never asked and never thought significant enough to research. Sauron, on the other hand, I had heard of. And he didn't mean well.  
"Yes. For sixty years, the Ring lay quiet in Bilbo's keeping, prolonging his life, delaying old age, but no longer. Evil is stirring in Mordor. The Ring has awoken. It's heard its master's call."  
"But he was destroyed. Sauron was destroyed," Frodo argued. He couldn't believe his ears. If it wasn't Gandalf who had told me about it, I would have thought that either of us had had too much ale or wine.

"No, Frodo. The spirit of Sauron endured. His life force is bound to the Ring and the Ring survived. Sauron has returned. His Orcs have multiplied, his fortress of Barad-dûr is rebuilt in the land of Mordor. Sauron needs only this Ring to cover all the lands in the second darkness. He is seeking it, seeking it, all his thought is bent on it. For the Ring yearns, above all else, to return to the hand of its master. They are one, the Ring and the Dark Lord," Gandalf explained. "Frodo, he must never find it."

Frodo grabbed the ring again. "Alright! We put it away, we keep it hidden! We never speak of it again. No one knows it's here, do they?" Gandalf shifted uncomfortably in his chair. That was not good. "Do they Gandalf?" Frodo persisted.  
"There is one other who knew that Bilbo had the Ring. I looked everywhere for the creature Gollum, but the enemy found him first," Gandalf said sadly. "I don't know how long they tortured him, but amidst the endless screams and inane babble, they discerned two words: Shire, Baggins."  
Frodo looked horrified. "Shire! Baggins! That will lead them here!"

"Take it! Take it!" He held the ring up to Gandalf. When he made no move to grab it, he tried me.  
"No, Frodo," Gandalf tried to stop him.  
"You must take it!"  
"You cannot offer us this ring."  
"I am giving it to you!" Frodo was desperate.  
"Don't tempt me Frodo! I dare not take it! Not even to keep it safe. Understand Frodo, we both would use this Ring from a desire to do good, but through either one of us, it would wield a power too great and terrible to imagine." This was truer for Gandalf than it was for me. His power was far greater than mine, but if he insisted, I would not take it either. I trusted his claims.

"But it cannot stay in the Shire!"  
"I agree, where should he take it Gandalf?" I asked.  
"You must leave. And leave quickly. Get out of the Shire. Dawn will take you to the village of Bree. There I will you meet you at the Prancing Pony." I was not looking forward to Bree and the Prancing Pony. The old inn masters would be long dead, and no one there would know me, but the place held bad memories for me. I had come there after my banishment and fell into a deep depression after the difficulties I found in adapting to this new, routine, life. On top of that, I had to hide my face so no one would notice that I hadn't aged a day in two decades.   
Yeah, I wasn't overly fond of the place after all that.

"Why not come with us? Will the Ring be safe in Bree?" Frodo asked Gandalf.  
"I don't know, Frodo. I don't have any answers. I must see the head of my Order. He is both wise and powerful. Trust me, Frodo. He'll know what to do." I didn't like the idea of Gandalf going to Sauruman, if he would get the Ring, surely the world would explode in a fiery blaze? I trusted him to make the generally wisest decision, which was what earned him the title of Sauruman the Wise, but I also trusted him to act in his self-perceived best interest.  
"You'll have to leave the name of Baggins behind you, for that name is not safe outside the Shire."  
Gandalf helped Frodo into his coat while I put mine on. "Travel only by day. And stay off the road."  
"We can cut across country easily enough." Frodo sounded almost cheerful when he said it, as if he was excited by the prospect of an adventure and the weight of the quest hadn't really landed yet. Gandalf looked down at him, moved by his courage. "My dear Frodo, Hobbits really are amazing creatures. You can learn all there is to know about their ways in a month, and yet, after a hundred years, they can still surprise you."

A sound outside startled the three of us. "Get down!" Gandalf told Frodo. I went to the open window to get a closer look at what it was. At another sound I threw out my arms and grabbed whatever it was, slamming it onto a table and getting ready to cut its throat when I realised who it was.  
"Hi Sam," I chirped non-chalantly. I put my dagger away but didn't let him go. He was still trying to catch his breath.  
"Confound it all! Samwise Gamgee, have you been eavesdropping?" asked Gandalf angrily.  
"I ain't been dropping no eaves, sir, honest. I was just cutting the grass under the window there, if you follow me," Sam said it all so fast that it amazed me that I got it all.

"It's a little late for trimming the hedges, don't you think?" I teased.  
"I heard raised voices-"  
"What did you hear? Speak!" demanded Gandalf.  
"If you would let him, he could," I complained to Gandalf, letting go of Sam's shirt.

"I heard nothing important, that is, I heard a good deal about a ring and a Dark Lord. And something about the end of the world, but please, Mr. Gandalf, sir, don't hurt me! Don't turn me into anything unnatural!" He was still talking extremely fast.  
"No?" Gandalf looked at a smiling Frodo. "I have found a better use for you."


	5. Last time you left me in charge, you had to save us from a spit.

The next day, Gandalf led us to a clearing in the forest. Not using the path, as he had said. He led my horse, which was faster than his, by the bridles. "Come along, Samwise, keep up!" he shouted over his shoulder.  
"Be careful, you three. The Enemy has many spies in his service, many ways of hearing, birds, beasts..." Gandalf took Frodo aside. Sam decided to chat with me a bit, after all, he barely knew me and I barely knew him.

"So, who are you again?" he asked very carefully. "I mean, I know you're a friend of mister Frodo's uncle but... I never caught your name." I found us regularly going out with the other's and him being too awkward to ask for my name quite respectable. You would not believe how many nobles I called "lord" because I had no clue who they were.  
"My name is Dawn; Bilbo might have mentioned me in his stories."  
He nodded and I smiled at him. He told me about being a gardener and I showed him that I could do some nature spells. He didn't seem to realise my titles at all, and I was very okay with that. Usually as soon as someone figured out you were the general of So-And-So, or the queen of This-Or-That, they started worshipping the ground you walked on. Or they wanted your head on a platter, but there wasn't much in between. I could usually get along stellarly with people who treated me as an equal instead of as some unreachable someone even though I was no more than a few feet away from them.

Gandalf and Frodo came back. The former took the horse, shouting final instructions over his shoulder, as if we didn't have them memorized by the second time.  
"Well... on to Bree we go."

We hiked a long way through the Shire's calm fields and ranches. Never once going by the road. I couldn't leave the Hobbits out of earshot for even five minutes, I would never forgive myself if something happened to them. Even if the chance was small seeing as we were still in the Shire.

Sam suddenly stopped in his tracks. "What's the matter, mister Gamgee?" I asked him.  
"This is it," he replied, poking his stick into the ground.  
"This is what?" Frodo was slightly confused.  
"If I take one more step, it'll be the farthest away from home I've ever been."  
Frodo walked back to where Sam was standing and gave him a pat on the shoulder. "Come on Sam." Frodo consoled him way better than I was even willing to try. I would have just said that we hadn't even left the Shire yet and that Bree was still quite a distance away.

Sam took a deep breath and walked on. Frodo smiled at him. "Remember what Bilbo used to say: it's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no knowing where you might be swept off to."

That did sound like something Bilbo would say. I wondered how he was doing.

Sam was cooking dinner while Frodo was up in the tree that I leaned against. I could hear Elves singing in the distance. Once they got close enough for Frodo to hear, I began humming a bit. It was more mystical than anything sung in Dwarven halls, but also sounded a lot more mournful. "~O Light to us that wander here. Amid the world of woven trees! O Elbereth! Gilthoniel! Clear are thy eyes and bright thy breath!~"  
"Sam! Wood Elves!" Frodo called down from his tree. I went to look behind to see the caravan of Lòrien Elves walking along the road to the east.

"They're going to the harbour beyond the White Towers. To the Grey Havens," Frodo started explaining.  
"They're leaving Middle-earth."  
"Never to return." Why they were explaining this to me was lost on me. Of course I knew what they were doing.  
"I don't know why, it makes me sad," Sam said with a mournful undertone.  
"Don't be, Sam. They won't die, they are simply setting sail to a land of eternal... yeah... just eternal. To be completely honest with you, I don't exactly know what it is. Where I come from, we don't really go there. We like our dark and creepy forest."

When night rolled around, Frodo got down from the tree and I went up into it. Even though it had been a while, I still fell asleep quickly outside in a tree, though I did miss Thorin's embrace at night. That was clear when the Battle of the Five Armies revisited me for the first time in nearly four decades.

The name didn't make much sense to me at first. You had of course The Dwarfish, Elvish, Human and Orc armies, but what was the fifth army? Was it the fourteen of us? Was it the giant fuck-you earth-eating worms at the beginning? I read in a history book some three decades after the fact that the Wargs were counted as a separate army. But then it would've really been the Battle of the Six or even Seven Armies, for you would have needed to count the Trolls and Goblins as separate armies. Perhaps even eight armies, as Dain Ironfoot was pretty much a one-man army.  
Why they didn't call it the Battle of Erebor or something like that was a mystery to me.

We were later walking through a cornfield at one of the outer most farms of the Shire. If we kept up this speed, we would reach Bree before sunset tomorrow.  
My shorter stature annoyed me now more than ever. I could practically hear Legolas laughingly asking me if I wanted to sit on his shoulders.

After Sam had panicked after he'd lost sight of Frodo when he walked ahead a bit, I heard some noise from further in the field and drew my sword.  
A figure flew at Frodo, sending the vegetables he was holding flying in all directions. I pulled him off him and held my sword to his throat while Frodo picked himself up, only to be knocked over again by another. "Merry? Pippin?"  
"Oh, hey Dawn."

"Frodo! Merry, it's Frodo Baggins!" I dropped Merry and he turned to help Frodo up.  
Sam had found his voice through his astonishment. I was quite without words myself. "What's the meaning of this!"  
"Sam, hold this," Merry said while piling him up with cabbages and carrots that they'd likely stolen.

A large pitchfork moved toward us through the field, accompanied by angry shouts, likely from the farmer.  
"Who's that in my field! Get out of it! Get out of my field, you young varmints! I'll show you. Get out of my corn."  
"Boys, grab your haul and let's scram. I don't like the look of that pitchfork," I told Merry and Pippin. They hurriedly obliged and raced off. I was behind them and Sam and Frodo were on my heels.

"I don't know why he is so upset, it's only a couple of carrots," Merry called over his shoulder.  
"And some cabbages, and those three bags of potatoes that we lifted last week. And the mushrooms the week before," Pippin filled in.  
"Yes, Pippin, my point is, he's clearly overreacting."

We'd reached the edge of the field and still we ran on to the small cliff. The boys all stumbled off it and fell on a large pile of tangled limbs. I jumped off and landed rather elegantly. I'd practised that in my time not spent making trouble along with my children in Erebor.

-~-

"*Sshhh! He'll wake up!*" I whisper yelled at Dìs, my daughter, after she'd jumped on the bed too roughly. My son, Frèrin, came into the room with a bunch of daisies in his hands. Me and Dìs were braiding them into a sleeping Thorin's hair and beard.  
Thorin was sleeping on his back and I was hovering over his chest with my knees on either side of him. Dìs sat braiding his hair while Frèrin did the same at the other side. I just put the flowers in.

At one point he yawned and stirred. I stiffened and the kids bolted. I grinned down at Thorin when he opened his eyes. "*Morning, love.*" He hummed an answer while he blinked the sleepiness away. He smiled at me. I did not trust the smile, but before I could dash, he grabbed my arms and rolled over, pinning me under him.  
The smile had turned into a smirk as he plucked a flower from his hair and put it between his teeth. I blew some of his unbraided hair out of my face and tried to contain my laughter. It didn't work. Thorin let himself fall on top of me. He kissed the side of my face and tickled me, which caused me to laugh even more.

"*Mom? Are you still alive? Okay, bye!*" Frèrin's quickly receding footsteps were enough to send both of us into bursts of laughter.

-~-

"Whew! That was close!" sounded Pippin's voice from somewhere in the pile.

"I think I've broken something," groaned Merry while hoisting himself up. I stepped forward to do something about his broken something, but when he pulled out a snapped carrot I stopped in my tracks and just waited for them to get up.

"Trust a Brandybuck and a Took!" Sam retorted once he got up.  
"What? That was just a detour, a shortcut," Merry defended himself.  
"A shortcut to what?"  
"Mushrooms!" Pippin exclaimed excitedly. Sam, Merry and Pippin scrambled to the mushrooms and started stuffing them in their pockets.

Frodo looked tense. I looked around realised why. We were on a road. A few leaves rose into air as if they were being lifted by a breeze, though there was none.  
In the distance, there came the sound of hooves quickly galloping toward us.  
"I think we should get off the road."  
A terrifying wail split the air and rooted us to our spots.  
"Get off the road!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story is finally getting underway!


	6. The living, well, not really, embodiment of "RUN FOR YOUR LIFE!"

We threw ourselves at the out sticking tree roots at the side of the road. I quickly made ferns grow to cover us further as we pressed ourselves into the dirt under and between the roots. When the hooves got closer, I stopped.  
The hooves halted next to us and a weighty pair of boots landed on the ground above us with a heavy thud. An armoured hand rested on a root above our heads. We dared not even breathe. The rider sniffed the air as if he was trying to smell us.  
My companion's faces contorted in despair as bugs crawled over our shoulders trying to flee from the rider. I myself had a sort of system shutdown out of fear and only had access to core functions like 'do not breathe loudly' and 'sit still'. The one I tried hardest to keep up was 'do not run away screaming'.

I looked over at Frodo and saw that he'd taken out the Ring. He seemed to be in some sort of trance as he got ready to slip it on. I put my hand on his to try and stop him. He snapped out of the trance when Merry hurled the sack of mushrooms across the road.  
The rider gave another bloodcurdling scream and flew to the direction in which the mushrooms landed at an alarming speed.

"What was that?" Merry asked.  
"That, my friend, is the embodiment of let's get the fuck away from here," I explained while pushing Frodo up and darting into the trees with as little sound as possible.  
Luckily, my Hobbit companions were somewhat clever at moving silently too. If this was the Dwarves, the dark -whatever it was- would have smelled us when it started sniffing, probably before. And would surely catch us by the racket we would be making.

When night had fallen, and we were still hastily but carefully running through the woods, Merry and Pippin finally dared ask questions.  
"What is going on?" asked Pippin. Merry walked towards Frodo, who was looking very queasy. "The black rider was looking for something. Or someone... Frodo?"  
"Get down!" I whispered softly yet demandingly. The silhouette of the rider stuck out in the moonlight on top of the slope. We were flat on the ground.   
When it had left, Frodo answered Pippin's question. "I have to leave the Shire. Sam, Dawn and I must get to Bree."

Merry and Pippin realised what kind of trouble we were in. "Right, Bucklebury ferry. Follow me." We followed Merry to a river with a ferry that was tied at the pier. We broke cover and sprinted to it. Another black rider burst out of the trees behind us.  
"There's another one! Frodo this way!"  
The rider let out a bloodcurdling scream and set out in pursuit.

I jumped on the ferry and started on the ropes. Sam, Merry and Pippin jumped on next and busied themselves on the ropes as well. Frodo was still on the wharf and the rider had company.  
I jumped off the ferry and ran out to Frodo. I grabbed him and quickly turned my heel back to the ferry again. I jumped just in time. The four riders shrieked and their horses reared up in anger on the end of the wharf. Luckily, the gap was too large to jump for a horse. Even a big, scary, glowy-eyed piece of work that I could probably walk under without ducking.

"Where is the nearest crossing?" I asked, slightly winded.  
"Brandywine bridge. Twenty miles."  
"That would give us about five hours. I'll take it. Come on, there's the gate of Bree," I helped the still wide-eyed Hobbits off the ferry and led the way to the gate.

I knocked. An old gatekeeper opened the upper window. I sighed, annoyed at the fact that I had the awkward height between the windows. "Down here sir." The gatekeeper closed the window and opened the one that came to my chest, so I bent down a little.

"What do you want?" he asked.  
"We are headed for the Prancing Pony."  
The man held out his lantern and bathed us in a yellow light. "Four Hobbits and an Elf, what business brings you to Bree?"  
"We wish to stay at the inn, our business is our own," I explained without giving too much away.

He closed the window and to our relief, opened the gate. "Alright, my lady, I meant no offense." He eyed us suspiciously in the lantern light. "'Tis Old Harry's job to ask questions after nightfall. There's talk of strange folk abroad. Can't be too careful."  
I nodded and he let us pass. "Stay close," I bid the Hobbits as I weaved my way through the narrow streets. I had no desire to ever come back here, but at least those who would be able recognise me here were either long dead or too old to remember my face.

We hurried into the Prancing Pony and I quickly scanned the place to see if Gandalf was here yet. He wasn't. Not that I could see anyway.  
I went to the reception. "Excuse me sir," Frodo tried to catch the inn-keeper's attention. "Ah welcome miss and misters. If you're looking for accommodation, we've got some nice, cosy rooms available. Mr uh..."

"Underhill," I said before Frodo could answer with his real name.   
"Underhill, hmm?"  
"Yes, two l's. We're friends of Gandalf the Grey. Can you tell him we've arrived?"  
"Gandalf, Gandalf... oh... Oh, yes, I remember. Elderly chap, big grey beard, pointy hat."  
"That's him," I said hopefully.  
"Not seen him in six months."

"What do we do now?" Sam whispered worriedly.  
"We'll take the room. Thank you," I plopped down a small bag of gold and took the key. "Try and keep a low profile." I pleaded the Hobbits as I took a table that could seat six. I fully trusted Sam and Frodo to do what I told them. Merry and Pippin though, not so much.

Sam kept glancing around nervously. "Sam, he'll be here. He'll come," Frodo assured him.  
While we were waiting, I ordered some food and an ale for all of us. Merry plonked down a whole pint. Pippin went off to get one next.  
"You've got a whole half already!" retorted Sam as he watched Pippin walk to the bar unsteadily.

Folk had been eyeing us now and then, but a hooded man alone in a dark corner stood out to me. He had been staring at us all evening. Sam noticed too. I gestured to a server. "That man in the corner, do you know who he is?"  
"He's one of them Rangers; they're dangerous folk, they are, wandering the wilds. What his right name is, I never heard, but round here he's known as Strider."  
"Thanks."

Strider... Legolas had scoured the world to find him. He'd never found more than a month-old name in a register of him though. I never heard if he eventually did find him.

He looked at me now. I could swear I had seen him before; I just couldn't connect a name to the face. He seemed to at least have some idea who I was too. That wouldn't be unnerving in any Elvish or Dwarvish settlement, heck, in the Shire I was known as a disturber of the peace. But in Bree? I haven't been here in a very long time and most folk here couldn't read. It's hard to imagine they'd be interested in Dwarven politics half a world away.

"Baggins? Sure, I know a Baggins. He's over there..." Pippin's slurred voice sounded from the bar. Frodo got up and briskly walked to him. "Frodo Baggins. He's my second cousin, once removed on his mother's side and my third cousin, twice removed on his father's side, if you follow me."   
Frodo grabbed Pippin's sleeve, spilling his beer.   
"Pippin!"   
"Steady on, Frodo!"  
Pippin pushed Frodo away. He stumbled backwards and fell to   
the floor. The inn went silent and all the attention turned to Frodo. He reached out to catch the ring in mid-air, but it slipped onto his finger and he vanished.

Talk about keeping a low profile.


	7. How many breakfasts do you need?

I was desperately trying to find Frodo in the ruckus that was the bar. The fact that he was invisible didn't make it any easier. I saw Strider lean under the table and grab what looked like air before he rushed away. I remembered that Bilbo could also use the ring to appear invisible, but he was still physically there. He proved that by taking my arm and pulling me with him. So, the invisible person Strider took must have been Frodo, it couldn't logically have been anything or anyone else. I rallied my friends and set in a pursuit.

We crossed the street into a house at the opposite side and I threw myself against the closed door behind which I heard Frodo's frightened voice. I heard a sword being drawn and drew my own before I kicked down the door with a little not-so-subtle magic. Sam, Merry and Pippin stood behind me. Merry with a candelabra and Pippin with a chair. Sam decided he could take Strider with his bare hands.

"You lay a finger on him and you're dead where you stand," I threatened in a voice that was lower and louder than my regular one. It was probably not that intimidating. It usually worked on my family if I had to, but this guy was bigger than I was, so no success here.

Strider sheathed his sword with a slight smirk. I didn't put mine away and walked closer with my sword pointing at him.   
"You have a stout heart, princess, but that alone will not save you. Frodo. They're coming."  
"That is queen for you, Strider. And I have more than a stout heart to handle myself," I retorted.  
"Put your sword away, my queen. They are coming," he softly ordered me.  
My voice dropped to a whisper. "You know of the black riders? How?" He didn't answer but we seemed to be talking about the same thing.

I put my sword away. Merry and Pippin also put their improvised weapons down. "The four of you should get some shut-eye. We'll be leaving early in the morning," I told my Hobbit companions. "We'll meet Gandalf then," I added.  
Strider seemed no more malicious than I was. So, I decided to trust him for the time being. That turned out to be one of my better decisions, because by the time the boys had gone to bed, the four horsemen could be seen prowling the streets with their swords drawn.

Their shadows were on the windows of what was supposed to be our room. The moonlight glinted off their swords and the sounds of hacking and slashing pierced the night. Then silence. Then Shrieks.  
First Sam awakened with a start, then Merry and Pippin. Frodo was never asleep to begin with and he stood next to Strider by the window. I sat on a chair against the back wall. 

"What are they?" Frodo asked. I had been wondering that myself. They were unlike any bounty hunter I've ever faced and very unlike any other foes I've had to deal with.

"They were once men." He glanced my way and then to Frodo. "Great kings of Men. Then Sauron the Deceiver gave to them Nine Rings of Power. Blinded by their greed they took them without question, one by one falling into darkness. Now they are slaves to his will." The sound of hooves ran down the street. Strider turned back to us. "They are the Nazgûl, Ringwraiths, neither living nor dead. At all times they feel the presence of the Ring, drawn to the power of the One. They will never stop hunting you."

"Right, no good then. They know we're here somewhere. Let's leave," I said while getting up.  
"What about Gandalf?"   
"He's late, so we'll have to make do without him. Pack your stuff."  
Strider agreed but insisted he lead the way. I wasn't a big fan of this, but he seemed to know what he was doing and where he was going.

We were walking through a dense and dark forest. Strider had the lead and I the rear. Frodo, Merry and Pippin walked with the three of them and Sam was leading Strider's heavily packed pony.  
"Where are you taking us?" asked Frodo.   
"Into the wild," was Strider's cryptic answer.  
"And more specifically?" I pressed. Strider didn't answer me and walked into the cover of the trees. 

"How do we know this Strider is a friend of Gandalf?" Merry whispered suspiciously.  
"We don't," I answered.   
"I think a servant of the enemy would look fairer and feel fouler," Frodo thought aloud.   
"He's foul enough," countered Sam.  
"We have no choice but to trust him. If he wanted to kill Frodo and take the Ring for himself, he would have done so when he had the chance," I settled the argument.   
"But where is he leading us?" Strider stopped and cast a glance back at Sam. "To Rivendell, Master Gamgee, to the house of Elrond."  
Sam looked very excited at this. "Did you hear that, Bill? Rivendell! We're going to see the Elves!"

Hello. My name is Dawn. Though I may not seem like it, I am an Elf.

Lindir is going to kill me. I haven't visited since I became pregnant of Frerin. Elrond is going to kill me too, because I haven't visited with the children. 

-~-

We'd had no sign of the Ring Wraiths since we left Bree, but the day was still young. The Hobbits suddenly stopped and plonked down their gear. "Do you want to get to Rivendell before the Nazgûl kill us, or after?" I retorted.  
"We do not stop till nightfall," Strider ordered more gently.  
"What about breakfast?" asked Pippin.  
"You've already had it."  
"We've had one yes, but what about second breakfast?" Strider gave him a blank look and walked away, shaking his head.

"I don't think he knows about second breakfast, Pip," said Merry.   
"What about Elevenses, Luncheon, Afternoon tea, dinner, he knows about them, doesn't he?"

"Dinner perhaps, but I wouldn't count on it," I said before following Strider.  
"Let them have something. They won't moan about how hungry they are."

He sighed and threw some apples over his shoulder. He held one out to me. "I'm good, thanks." I declined.

-~-

After some days of travelling and not hearing a whisper from the Nazgûl I decided to trust Strider enough to give him my name, and told him to stop calling me lady or my queen. He politely declined and called me lady Dawn. I have a feeling he did that to tease me. When I realised, I started calling him sir Strider. He stopped after that and just called me Dawn.

"This was once the great Watchtower of Amon Sûl. We shall rest here tonight." The Hobbits sat down, muddy and exhausted. We were at Wheathertop now. A few days of travelling and then Lindir and Elrond would kill me.

Strider dropped four swords in front of the Hobbits. More like daggers, but it was something. "These are for you. Keep them close. Dawn and I are going to have a look around. Stay here."  
Are we? Is that entirely smart? Not likely, but I wanted to know more about this guy. I'd tried before, but he evaded my questions. The hill was safe enough. The Hobbits would be able to see any enemy coming miles away. 

We were at the other side of the hill when I asked my first question. "Back in Bree, you seemed to know me or at least recognise my face, but I can't seem to recall ever meeting you, how come?"  
"You wound me. Don't you remember coming to Rivendell sixty years ago?"  
"Of course, I do, but I fail to see-" then it struck me. I recognised his eyes and could finally attach a name to his face. "Estel?"  
"Dawn, the Elf among Dwarves."  
"Right, sorry." 

The sky was dark now and I heard some shrieks that could only mean one thing. Estel read my face and saw that it was no good. We drew our swords together and raced back to Wheathertop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How do you like you breakfast? Personally, I don't.


	8. Hello, my name is Dawn. You hurt my Hobbits. Prepare to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Outdated pop culture references? In my titles? Yes.

Estel and I burst into the ruin at the top of the hill, both brandishing fire and swords. We threw ourselves between our companions and our uninvited guests.  
They stood in a semi-circle with the five of them. The light of Estel's torch and my fire spell glistening off their swords. Neither side made the first move.

If you're quick enough, you can wave your hand through fire without burning yourself. I was holding a ball of flame in a stand-off. Nothing about it was quick enough to not get hurt and the healing spells only did so much to deafen the pain of my hand burning away at roughly the same speed it was growing back.  
A cool thing about sixty years of not being at war, is I get to learn stuff like this, a less cool thing is then having to use what I taught myself.

Eventually, I had enough of my hand being actively on fire. I took a gamble and chucked it at one of the Ringwraiths. I hit the middle one square in the face. Fire seemed to be as effective on the Ringwraiths as it would have been on us, so I chanted another fireball into my hand.

The ensuing skirmish was mostly the Nazgûl keeping themselves composed while Estel and I were waving our swords and fire around like madmen.  
As Estel frantically waved his torch back and forth, and the Nazgûl were fleeing, I turned to see Frodo bleeding on the ground. I rushed to heal him when I'd gotten rid of the flames. I examined the wound while Frodo was moaning in pain. I tried healing the wound, but it wouldn't work.  
I didn't understand it. I had gotten much better at magic since the Battle of the Five Armies, and delays between spell and effect were pretty much a thing of the past now.  
So why wouldn't it work now? Was it because the only real practice in healing I'd had were minor compared to getting stabbed? The only thing that really happened anymore was that people would come to me with burns or hammered fingers that they wanted to stop hurting. And even that didn't happen that often. Not many were brave enough to step to the queen for a broken finger when first-aid was within arms' reach. Thorin would regularly come to me with a paper cut, which he would be more dramatic about than nearly bleeding out on some icy pond bank.

I tried again. This time I sang the spells louder, as if that would help. A liquidy golden glow streamed from my eyes down to my hands in streams and spread over Frodo.  
Yeah, that is a thing that happens now. It was kind of pretty, but it didn't seem to be more or less effective than healing without the light. Honestly, it kind of blinded me.

Estel knelt beside me and picked up a dagger that had fallen on the ground. "He's been stabbed by a Morgul blade," he said grimly. The blade suddenly went up in smoke and vanished into the air. Estel threw down the hilt.  
"Do something!" Sam yelled at Estel.  
"This is beyond my skill to heal, he needs Elvish medicine."  
"I'm working on it!" I snapped between spells.

Estel didn't have any more faith in my healing than his, and hauled Frodo onto his shoulder and started jogging down the hill. "Where are you taking him? Elrond? Will we reach him in time? We're six days from Rivendell," I questioned when I'd caught up.  
The Hobbits behind us were carrying flaming torches, in case the Ringwraiths decided they were ready for a rematch.  
"Hold on Frodo."

We soon reached the place where Gandalf had to save us from a spit and I had my ass in Thorin's face after letting myself get caught by Trolls.  
Good memories.

"Look, Frodo. It's Mr. Bilbo's trolls," Sam pointed out in an attempt to keep Frodo conscious. When he made no reaction, Sam felt his cheek. "Mr. Frodo? He's going cold!"  
"Is he going to die?" Pippin asked worriedly. He looked between me and Estel. I couldn't give an honest answer. Frodo's breathing was shallow and physically, he didn't look like he could last another five days. I wasn't an expert, but my best guess was that unless we could get him Elrond's treatment within two days at most, he wasn't going to make it.  
"He is passing into the Shadow World. He'll soon become a Wraith like them," Estel explained, perhaps not too tactfully.  
A distant cry of a Ringwraith carried through the air. "They're close," Merry muttered nervously.

I had felt at the verge of death when I was shot by that poison arrow, but I was somewhat resistant. And an arrow was very different to a Morgul dagger. It took Oin's knowledge of medicine to get rid of the poison.

Wait.

"Sam! You're a gardener, do you know Kingsfoil?"  
"Kingsfoil. Aye, it's a weed."  
"It helped me get over a poisoned arrow once. It might at least slow the poisoning, come on!" Sam and Estel went into the woods. Merry, Pippin and I stayed with Frodo. The boys were guarding the clearing with their torches while I tried to at least slow the bleeding, perhaps even stop it. But it was useless. The best I could do was distract him with what might as well have been a lightshow. He did not look like he was enjoying my lightshow.

A little distance away I heard a sword being unsheathed. I drew my own sword and prepared for the worst, but then I heard a gentle voice. "~What is this? A Ranger caught off his guard?~" It was Arwen, Elrond's youngest child, if you didn't count Estel, who was also raised by Elrond.  
She rode up to us and quickly tried to call Frodo back to the light. "Who is she?"  
"She's an Elf."

While Arwen was calling Frodo, Estel put chewed up Kingsfoil on his wound and I tried to heal it again.  
"He's fading. He's not going to last. We must get him to my father," Arwen declared. Estel quickly lifted Frodo and put him on Arwen's horse. "I've been looking for you for two days. There are five Wraiths behind you. Where the other four are, I do not know."

Estel continued their conversation Elvish. "~Stay with the Hobbits. I will send horses for you.~" Arwen grabbed the reins, as if to say "Nice try."  
"~I am the faster rider. I'll take him,~" argued Arwen. Estel put his hand over hers.  
"~The road is too dangerous.~"  
"~If I can get across the river, the power of my people will protect him,~" Arwen argued further. Is this what Thorin and I sounded like? Probably not. We were definitely louder than this. I was quite unused to arguing in Elvish. I taught Thorin and the children to speak it, but they preferred Khuzdul, as it was Erebor's foremost language. Thorin taught me to speak it and now both of us were fluent in three languages.

"What are they saying?" asked Pippin. "They are arguing who will take Frodo to Elrond. And if they don't hurry it up, I will." The last part was more directed at Estel and Arwen. She caught on, and reached for Estel's hand. "I do not fear them."  
Estel looked very conflicted, but ultimately gave in. "~As you wish.~"

Arwen got onto her horse and sped away. We travelled after her. It was our plan to delay the Wraiths as much as possible. But judging from the shrieks ahead of us, we were too late for that, and settled for trying to get to Rivendell as fast as possible.

We arrived within a day, with the horses that Arwen had sent for us. Lindir was waiting for us at the gate. "~Ah, Dawn, still short I see?~" he greeted me.  
"~Not where I live,~" I greeted back.  
"~Which is with Dwarves...~"  
"~Unimportant.~ How is Frodo?" I changed the subject.

I helped the Hobbits down after I'd gotten down myself. "He couldn't have arrived an hour later. But with my father's help he'll get over it. Mostly," Lindir explained.  
"Mostly?" I inquired while walking myself to Elrond's palace, the Hobbits silently following me.  
"He was stabbed by a Morgul blade. He will always wear the scar."

I thought of the numerous scars that decorated my body. One across my eye and one on my leg I got from the battle of the five armies. The one on my shoulder was the poison arrow from our prison break. I wore them with pride. A scar shows what you've survived and makes the enemy think twice before attacking you. Not to say I didn't have fair share of them hidden under a layer a magic, I was 259 decades old, around 180 of which I had been a general, I can't be expected to have smooth skin. If I paraded all my scars around, I would be scary rather than intimidating, which was not what I wanted. I wanted foreign diplomats to fear me, not children. I only wore the scars with important memories attached to them. 

Lindir led us to the room Frodo was sleeping in. Sam immediately sat by his side and refused to leave even when dinner was served. I brought him a plateful but when I checked in on them the next morning, the plate was still full. At least Sam was asleep.

When I walked out of the room, Elrond greeted me. "~I hear talk about the rulers under the mountain having children, yet not coming to visit me with them.~"  
"~I sent letters,~" I defended myself.  
I pulled out the drawing of my family that I always had on hand. It featured Thorin, Merryn, who wasn't taller than either of us yet, and Lai, who was still a baby in Thorin's arm that wasn't around Merryn. I hadn't made the drawing myself, but I had it with me wherever I went.

Elrond bent over my shoulder to see what I was smiling at. "~The children are beautiful, you must be very proud,~" he complimented me. I smiled fondly at the drawing before I put it back in my pocket.  
"~While I would not put it past you to seek me out purely to talk about your grandnephew and niece, I imagine you have a more serious topic you wish to discuss?~"  
"~As a matter of fact I do. I want to invite you to my council, on ground of you being the one that originally was supposed to bring the Hobbits here. I must add that this is not a meeting you should take lightly, I invited representatives of Dwarves, Elves and Men alike,~" Elrond explained as we walked down to his study.  
"~That is bound to clash... Will I be representing anyone?~" I asked curiously. An invitation to the council of Elrond was not one you turned down. Even if you hated meetings and would rather spar things out, like me.

"~I hear your skill with a sword is unmatched. I also hear that it certainly is not matched by your skill with diplomacy.~"  
"~So that's a no?~"  
"~That it is.~"  
"~I'll do it.~" I halted at the study's gate to let Elrond in first. Gandalf was waiting for us there.

"Gandalf, you were late."  
"I was delayed. A friendship with Sauruman is not lightly thrown aside."  
"Welcome to the club." After a brief pause, I went on. "So who else is coming to the council and who is representing what?"  
"You'll know some of them, me and Frodo for instance. Your father will also be there, along with some company, representing the western Elves. Our friend Gloin will come to represent the Dwarves along with others. The Steward of Gondor's eldest son will be accompanied by diplomats to represent Mankind. Your newer friend will be there too, serving a role similar to yours."  
"Right, sounds fun."


	9. A man of few words and many, many names.

I prepared myself thoroughly for the meeting. Even though it was still some time away. I mentally listed everything I thought I knew about the Ring, Sauron and the Wraiths.  
Sauron was one of the most powerful entities of Middle Earth, second only to lady Galadriel. He wanted the Ring so he could rule the world and plunge it into destruction and darkness.  
The Ring had a mind of its own and wanted most of all to return to Sauron. It draws its power from the wielder, which is why someone like Gandalf or Elrond shouldn't have it. If you put it on it made you invisible and alerted the Ring Wraiths, or Nazgûl to your location. The Nazgûl were 9 undead dishonoured kings of ancient times (which, in my books, is everything that happened before I was born) who once had Rings of Power themselves and now had poisoned swords and unnatural speed. Mount Doom in Mordor was the only place the Ring could be destroyed and coincidentally, that was right under the Great Eye of Sauron's... nose.  
Also, the Nazgûl were already chasing us and didn't like fire.

We are so fucked.

I heard from Elrond later that Bilbo was still here, so I went to look for him. I found him smiling to himself in the place where the company resided when we were to retake Erebor.  
"Remember how angry Thorin got at having to stay here?" I chuckled. Bilbo's back was turned to me, but hearing my voice, he turned and smiled at me fondly. I walked over to stand next to him. "Very clearly, yes," he agreed. "His anger and confusion at himself too."  
"How so? He never told me that," I laughed.  
"Of course he wouldn't."  
"Do tell," I mused. Bilbo eyed me with a mischievous glint in his eyes.   
"Well, you know, of course, that you hid your heritage in fear of being abandoned," Bilbo began. "He wasn't very happy about that, as I'm sure you remember. He also found, still finds, I would hope, that you are quite charming. He felt conflicted when he thought you were so much younger than him. Until he learned you count your age in decades, that is," he ended with a wink.

"He didn't actually... say that, did he?" I smiled awkwardly.  
"Well..."

After a few minutes of comfortable silence. I asked Bilbo whether he was still planning to come to Erebor, because he'd been here for a good long while and he didn't look like he would be leaving soon. He apologised when he said he wasn't. His age had caught up to him. Even with escorts he would still be too old to travel that far. I told him it was okay, and we'd be sure to visit him every once in a while.

I took a walk around the gardens with Lindir, catching up on each other’s lives. "~So you got yourself knocked up at least twice, and didn't bother to come show me the results?~" He was just as, if not more salty about my long absence than Elrond was.  
"~I am Erebor's queen and general. I have stuff to do,~" I defended myself.  
"~Is 'stuff' your husband's nickname nowadays?~" Lindir teased.  
I hit him in the shoulder really hard for that. 

"~You could have easily visited yourself!~" I was trying desperately to change the subject.  
"~I'd have to cross the Misty Mountains. Besides, you're better equipped to defend yourself.~"  
"~I have two children!~"  
"~By now they aren't children anymore, are they?~"  
"~You sound like my father.~"

A few days later, I sent Thorin another letter.  
"*Dear Thorin,

Do you remember how you told me not to get in trouble? Well, I got into so much trouble that Lord Elrond is holding a council about it.  
Not only me though, Bilbo's nephew and three of his friends were with me. Estel too, the kid I met when we passed through Rivendell on our quest.

Don't worry though, we're all perfectly fine. We arrived in Rivendell safely and are awaiting the council. I'd much rather come home to you, but Elrond personally invited me and I felt rude to refuse. I hear Gloin is coming along too with an entourage. It's too bad you couldn't make it, I would have liked to see you.

Bilbo has sadly decided to stay here in Rivendell. His old age has caught up with him. He has very likely sent a letter of his own already, but I just thought I'd make sure.

Also, Lindir and Elrond just about threatened to kill the both of us if we don't visit with Dìs and Frèrin in the near future. When we do, let's turn the place upside down again.

I love and miss you dearly,  
Dawn.

PS. I feel I should inform you that Gandalf is involved. I told him off for missing our wedding.*"

I wanted to write something real sappy at first, but that would only make me miss him more, so I kept it sort of rational without telling him Frodo almost died at the hands of a Ring Wraith. He would probably come to Rivendell to kill me himself. I would have loved to see him, but not with Orcrist between us.

Around the time that it would be logical for me to do so, I waited for either my father or Gloin to arrive, whomever came first. Knowing my father's punctuality, it was Gloin.

"*Gloin, my friend! How was the journey?*" I greeted as I came to him with outstretched arms. We bonked our foreheads against each other. He was very careful, and just as well. The way Dwarves greet close friends and family has caused me an amount of concussions I couldn't count on two hands. That was mostly because Fili and Kili refused to be careful with my delicate skull.

"*It was fast and no trouble was encountered,*" Gloin reported with a hearty laugh.  
"*Good to hear. How are Thorin and the kids?*" I led Gloin to the Dwarves' quarters. The rest trailed behind.  
"*Good, good. They miss you a great deal, that much is obvious.*"  
"*I miss them too. I hope I'll be able to return shortly.*"  
"*As do we all. You can see now more than ever what a queen like you is good for.*"  
"*How so?*" I looked at him without moving my head.  
"*The negotiations are shit to begin with. You might say you're not much of a diplomat, but you're better than those lads of yours combined.*"  
"*Is it that bad?*"  
"*Well let's just say: you've got some cleaning up to do when you get back,*" Gloin teased.

I left my friends for what they were and went to see if my father had arrived yet. I knew my father well enough to know that he always arrived just in time. Judging by the council being in just a few days, he should be around here somewhere. Now to find him.  
After a bit of looking and Lindir confirming that he should have arrived by now, I encountered the son of the steward of Gondor.

"What is a beautiful woman like you doing in a place like this?" he asked me with a wink. I didn't actually see him wink, but the way he said it made it sound like he did.  
Sleaze.

I silently groaned before I turned around and answered. "That might work where you come from, love, but in my opinion Rivendell is quite a sight to behold."  
"I wouldn't know, I only have eyes for you," he smiled.  
"I am flattered, sir, though I'm afraid I must advise you to find someone else. My husband and children are not people I want to lose," I mused. He nodded, and seemed to heed my advice.

I finally found... Legolas... a mere turn of a corner away from where I was.  
"~What in Durin's name are you doing here?~" I asked in shock.  
"~Father was invited to council of Elrond, but he was too busy. So he sent me instead.~"  
"~Couldn't be bothered, more like. How is he anyway?~"  
"~Still a bit disgruntled at you marrying Oakenshield,~" Legolas chuckled.   
"~Urg.~"  
He suddenly halted in his tracks. Gloin and Gimli were walking past. Gloin was telling vivid stories of our stay in Rivendell. Gimli, having heard those stories at least a thousand times, was barely listening and just nodded and yessed at random intervals.

I looked up at Legolas's face and saw him quite poorly composed and staring at Gimli's utterly bored face. I looked between them a couple of times before I pulled Legolas away with a smirk.  
"~So your type extends beyond Tauriel now?~" I teased. He wasn't even pretending to listen. "~Hey! Earth to Legolas! Can you hear me?~" I waved my hand in front of his eyes to get his attention. This time it did work. "~You've got to work on how to mask your obvious crush, man!~"

"~What crush? I don't know what you're talking about,~" he said too quickly to be even remotely believable. I could tell that he could tell that I wasn't buying it.   
"~Hey, I married one too. Don't fret,~" I consoled him.  
"~I'm not fretting!~"  
"~We'll see about that.~"  
I strolled off in the direction Gimli and Gloin had disappeared to, taking my time. Legolas caught me by the shoulder. "Don't tell him!" he ordered me.   
"~Tell him what?~" I pretended to be innocent, though every soul in Middle Earth knows I'm not, Legolas perhaps most of all. He did not seem very impressed by my effort. "~Don't worry brother, no one will hear a word from me.~" I promised.

-~-

The council would start soon, and I was running a bit late. I took the only free chair left. It was next to Legolas and some Elf whose face I recognised but whose name I couldn't recall. When I was seated Elrond stood up and addressed the council.  
"Strangers from distant lands, friends of old. You have been summoned here to answer the threat of Mordor. Middle-Earth stands upon the brink of destruction. None can escape it. You will unite. Or you will fall. Each race is bound to this fate, this one doom."

Well... That is just lovely.

"Bring forth the ring, Frodo."  
Frodo stood up and shakingly laid the ring in the centre of a plinth in the middle of the square. He hurried back to his seat next to Gandalf. After some shocked murmuring, Gondor's representative, I heard his name was Boromir, stated his opinion. "It is a gift, a gift to the foes of Mordor! Why not use this Ring? Long has my father, the Steward of Gondor, kept the forces of Mordor at bay. By the blood of our people are your lands kept safe. Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy, let us use it against him!"

I tried to formulate how strongly against this plan I was in words, but nothing useful came to me. I sat back in silence, hoping someone more skilled with their tongue would voice my concerns.  
Estel did, rather annoyed at that. "You cannot wield it. None of us can. The One Ring answers to Sauron alone, it has no other master."  
Boromir turned his head to face Estel. He looked very smug, as if the argument was already won. "And what would a Ranger know of this matter?" Estel said nothing and Boromir turned away dismissively. Man, did I not like this guy.

Legolas stood up so suddenly that he almost pulled me with him. He shot to Estel's defence. "This is no mere Ranger. He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. You owe him your allegiance!"

Aragorn? How many names and aliases does one guy need? Yeah yeah, I'm one to talk. But I only have two. My real name and the one my parents gave me, Aragorn has at least three!

Boromir turned sharply. "Aragorn? This is Isildur's heir?" he mumbled in quiet disbelief.  
"And heir to the throne of Gondor," Legolas finished. Aragorn looked rather embarrassed by the whole situation. "~Sit down, Legolas.~"

"Gondor has no king," Boromir almost spat. Legolas still didn't sit down. I put my hand on his elbow. "~Legolas, please, sit down,~" I pleaded quietly. He clenched and unclenched his fists before he did what I said.  
"Aragorn is right, we cannot use it," Gandalf confirmed. Boromir believed the word of a Wizard more than Aragorn's and sat down with a huff.

"You have only one choice, the Ring must be destroyed." Elrond looked rather annoyed by the petty argument, but he managed not to make that fact audible.  
Gimli stood up with his axe raised. "Then, what are we waiting for?" He rushed forward and rammed his axe onto the Ring. It shattered into hundreds of tiny pieces and Gimli was sent flying backwards. He stared at his busted axe handle in disbelief. The ring didn't sport a scratch. I none-too-gently nudged Legolas in the side and slyly side-eyed him. If I did not agree to complete silence about a certain someone, I would have told him that someone whose name we shan't call who has a connection to someone who wishes to remain anonymous, is an idiot. Legolas rolled his eyes at my antics.

"The Ring cannot be destroyed, Gimli, son of Glóin, by any craft that we here possess," Elrond sighed. "The Ring was made in the fires of Mount Doom, only there can it be unmade. It must be taken deep into Mordor, and cast back into the fiery chasm from whence it came. One of you must do this."  
The council sat in silence. I had an irresistible urge to say "Not all at once." But I managed not to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that this is old writing and it be improving from chapter 15 onwards (if it ever comes lol) but I'm no longer used to writing from a first person perspective.


	10. On the count of three you all sit down and shut up, or I'll... uh...

The silence was finally broken by Boromir, who sounded more than little exasperated. "One does not simply walk into Mordor." I had a feeling one of us would prove him wrong soon. We had to.  
"Its Black Gates are guarded by more than just Orcs. There is evil there that does not sleep and the Great Eye is ever watchful." He indicated an eye with his hand and paused for dramatic effect before he continued. "It is a barren wasteland riddled with fire, and ash and dust. The very air you breathe is a poisonous fume. Not with ten thousand Men could you do this. It is folly."

Legolas, ever the optimist, didn't agree. "Have you heard nothing Lord Elrond has said? The Ring must be destroyed."   
"And I suppose you think you're the one to do it?" Gimli asked with an irritated voice.   
"And what if we fail, what then? What happens when Sauron takes back what is his?" Boromir argued. 

Thus far, I hadn't said a thing, except to Legolas. I wasn't a representative, so I didn't feel the need to throw my thoughts into the discussion. But that was soon to change when Gimli leapt to his feet.   
"I will be dead before I see the Ring in the hands of an Elf!"  
The other Elves and Dwarves had sprung to their feet as well and a storm of argument blew. I still sat on my chair with my head in my hand.  
"Never trust an Elf!" Gimli yelled just too loud to be in his favour. I stood up calmly, took a deep breath and with the authority of a thousand queens angrily said: "And just what, if I may ask, is that supposed to mean? Gimli, son of Gloin?" I didn't raise my voice, but I did magically amplify it, because otherwise it wouldn't carry over the arguing.  
Gimli would do well to remember that I do count as an Elf, even if his uncles and cousins regularly joke that I don't.

"Sit down." I glared around. "All of you." While the argument had fallen silent, everyone was staring at me instead of doing what I told them.  
"Fine. If you're going to act childish, so will I. On the count of three, you all sit down and shut up." Mad mother Dawn mode activated.

"1... 2..." I didn't know what would happen at three. I never did. But I’ve never had to anyway. This time, in the company of people whose mothers likely hadn't told them to sit down and shut up in a long time, was not any different. They all went back to their chairs and held their tongues.  
"Good." I stated coldly as I sat back down myself. Gimli had not yet heard the last of this. "Destroying the Ring is not a matter of who will get the honour, it is a matter of who can resist its power." Mad mother Dawn always works. Because it was a rare occurrence and no one in their right mind wanted to know what happened at three.

"Thank you, Dawn," said Gandalf before he turned to the rest of the council. "Do you not understand? While we bicker amongst ourselves, Sauron's power grows! No one will escape it. You will all be destroyed, with your homes burnt and your families put to the sword!"  
That was cause for more bickering and I gave up. Thundering dad-voice might have helped, but I possessed no such power. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Frodo stand up and walk to the ring.  
"I will take it! I will take it! I will take the Ring to Mordor!" He spoke loud and clear. His promise broke the argument and the council fell in a hush of silence. "Though I do not know the way," Frodo added, his voice barely above a whisper.  
Gandalf rose to his feet behind Frodo. "I will help you bear this burden, Frodo Baggins, as long as it is yours to bear," he swore.   
"If by my life or death I can protect   
you, I will." Aragorn got up too and knelt before Frodo. "You have my sword."

I promised Bilbo I'd look after Frodo, even though I wanted nothing more than to go home. I got up and walked over too, followed by both Legolas and Gimli, who at first I thought would try to stop me. "By my word as queen, I swear I will protect you, though I dearly hope it won't be needed. You have my sword as well."

Very poetic, I know.

"And you have my bow." Legolas stood behind me.   
"And my axe!"  
We went to stand behind Frodo. Boromir looked at our faces one by one. He then stood up and walked to Frodo. "You carry the fates of us all, little one." He looked from Elrond to Gandalf. "If this is indeed the will of the Council, then Gondor will see it done."  
Frodo turned around and stared at us in wonder as if we were the greatest warriors ever to walk Middle Earth. We were, in fact, just a bunch of jackasses standing in a line. 

"Here!" We could hear Sam before we saw him. The bushes at the edge of the square rustled and suddenly there stood Sam, a bit dishevelled. "Mr. Frodo's not going anywhere without me," he said in a way in a way that made it clear that he was unwilling to be talked out of it.   
"No, indeed. It is hardly possible to   
separate you, even when he is   
summoned to a secret Council and you are not." Elrond sounded a bit irked.   
Merry and Pippin suddenly jumped out of another bush. "Oi! We're coming too! You'd have to send us home tied up in a sack to stop us," announced Merry.   
"Anyway, you need people of intelligence on this sort of mission... quest... thing..."   
"Well, that rules you out, Pip."

Looks like I'll have to my bags too.

Elrond seemed to consider tying them up in a sack now, but he masked that look before anyone could point it out. He surveyed the group. "Ten companions... so be it," he mumbled. His next statement was loud and clear. "You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring."  
"Great. Where are we going?" Pippin asked excitedly.

After the council was dismissed, Gloin took me aside, carefully but rightfully angry. "What am I going to tell Thorin?" he hissed. I fell silent for a little. I... had not thought of that. I wouldn't be able to send letters because for the duration of the trip we'd be nowhere near a postal service. That, and Sauron had spies who would want our approximate location everywhere. They might intercept letters.  
"That I am fulfilling a promise I made to Bilbo, that I will be back within two years, and that I love him more than anything," I summed up.

He grumbled and walked away. The sudden realization that I might not make it back at all dawned on me. "Oh, and Gloin?" He halted but didn't turn his face to me. I took a deep breath. "*If I don't return within three years...*" I paused. My breath hitched in my throat. "*Tell them my biggest regret was not seeing them one last time.*" He nodded and walked on. They would leave tomorrow in the evening. The Fellowship would leave first thing in the morning. We were to set out for the mountain path, as the gap of Rohan would be too close to Isengard.

I went to bed early as I wanted to be well rested for the journey to come. Who knew when the next good night's rest would be? Certainly not until I was used to sleeping alone again.


	11. Taking the term "snowelves" to new extremes.

I woke up when the weakest light of sunrise danced across my face. It looked like I was early, so I took the time to wash myself. Then put on trousers, leather boots that reached to just below my knees, a white cloth around my breasts so they wouldn't get in the way, a white undershirt and a royal blue tunic with white details around the edges. I wore minimal armour, just shoulder, shin, and lower arm guards.  
I threw on my belt and started arming myself. Three daggers, a sword, a bow and a quiver of arrows. I made a few braids that made sure my hair stayed out of my face. The only strand that hung loose was the marriage braid.

I took a detour to the square where we'd gather. I walked past the fountain where the Dwarves had bathed so many decades before, and the area where they had resided. I smiled at the good memories it brought to me.  
I arrived at the rendezvous point and saw that almost everyone was there already, save for Frodo.  
"You took your time," Merry berated me.  
"I just took a detour past some old memories," I defended myself.  
When he looked confused, I explained. "We spent some time in Rivendell when I travelled to the mountain with Bilbo. Turned the place upside down actually. Elrond must remember it all less fondly than me."

Speaking of Elrond, I could hear him and Frodo coming.  
"His heart is set upon going. There will be no stopping him, even if you did send him home in a sack," Frodo chuckled.  
"Let it be so then. The Fellowship awaits."  
Frodo and Elrond turned the corner. Elrond halted halfway down the stairs among a group of Elves, among which was Lindir. Frodo continued on until he reached us.  
Elrond wished us good fortune and blessed our quest in the name of all the free people of Middle Earth.  
I could tell that Frodo was anxious. He was trembling slightly and his breathing was erratic. Not very serious, but not very pleasant either. Poor guy.  
He walked to the gate and stood still, glancing from one side to the other. "Mordor, Gandalf, is it left, or right?" he said softly.  
Gandalf put his hand on Frodo's shoulder. "Left." 

And so, we were off. The Misty Mountains were looming ever closer in the distance. I honestly never thought I'd be around here ever again. Miles off the road trying to get to a place on the other side of the mountains.

-~-

We were having a day off on top of a hill. Boromir and I were sparring to show the Hobbits how someone who's not very big can take out larger foes.

"You see, if they come at you-" Boromir made a calculated attack that would miss me even if my reaction was too slow. "-you'll have to jump aside-" I dodged. "-and quickly try to get behind your adversary." I did so, kicking up a bit of dust as I made a sharp turn. "When you're behind them, you stab 'em in the back of the knees." Instead of stabbing I swept Boromir's legs and he fell to the ground with a cry of surprise, I hadn't told him I'd do that.  
"Then you say something like 'who's small now, bitch?' Before you end them." I stuck out my hand to help Boromir, he flinched away but recovered too quickly for me to joke about it.

Boromir had grown on me. I guess travel to your indisputable demise does that to people. But at this point we were still confident that we'd all make it back.

The Hobbits and Boromir continued practicing and I joined Legolas on the edge of the plateau. I stared into the distance next to him but didn't take anything in as I listened to Gimli ranting to Gandalf. "If anyone were to ask for my opinion, which I note they have not, I would say we are taking the long way round. Gandalf, we can pass through the Mines of Moria. My cousin, Balin, would give us a royal welcome."  
Without even looking at either of them, I could tell that Gandalf thought this was a very bad idea. To be fair, he seemed to think this of any idea cooked up by a Dwarf. I silently agreed with Gimli though. It would be nice to see Balin and the rest again after all those years.  
"No, Gimli. I would not take the road through Moria, unless I had no other choice."

"What is that?" asked Sam. I turned to see what he was looking at.  
"Nothing. It's just a wisp of cloud," grumbled Gimli.  
"It's moving fast," noted Boromir worriedly.  
"Against the wind," I added. The cloud was now close enough for me to see what it was. Legolas was first to act on it though.  
"Crebain from Dunland!" he yelled.  
"Hide!" ordered Aragorn.  
I dove under a bush, making sure I was entirely hidden. Boromir dove in next to me. I could just make out the large crows circling around us. One of them crowed loudly and they all veered off to the south. That was not good. Isengard lay to the south.

When we were sure they were all too far away to see us if they turned their heads, we slowly emerged from our cover. "Spies of Saruman. The passage south is being watched," Gandalf noted. "We must take the Pass of Caradhras," he continued, gesturing to a mountain in the distance.

Yay. Climbing steep mountains. It's my lucky day. Can't we pay our old pals the Goblins a visit?

-~-

We were well past the snow borders and while it did get colder, I didn't mind it much. You could tell that the Hobbits were tired and cold though. Especially Frodo.  
Frodo slipped on an ice-covered rock. I caught him some distance later. He frantically felt around for the Ring. I looked around the snow for it, but Boromir found it first.  
He picked it up by the chain and stared at it so focused you could have shot him with an arrow and he wouldn't have noticed. He also seemed to be growing in stature, though my eyes may have been deceiving me. He looked quite intimidating.

"Boromir?" Aragorn asked both carefully and firmly.   
"It is a strange fate that we should suffer so much fear and doubt over so small a thing," Boromir said wistfully. "Such a little thing," he added quietly, in a similar intonation Bilbo had used when he refused to leave it behind.  
"Boromir... I think you should give the ring back to Frodo," I tried.  
I heard the sound of leather rubbing against leather and when I turned my head saw Aragorn's hand on the hilt of his sword.  
"Boromir!" I urged. If it was at the sound of his name or not, I do not know, but he snapped out of his trance. He strode over to Frodo, Aragorn and me and pressed the ring into Frodo's hands. "As you wish. I care not."

When he had stepped away, Aragorn released a tense breath and dropped his hand from the hilt of his sword. I gave Frodo a pat on the back and caught up with Legolas.  
By the time the snow blanket had gotten thicker, everyone but Legolas and me had had it with the mountain climbing. Legolas and I were barely leaving footprints while the rest had sunken into the snow until their armpits.

Gimli seemed the grumpiest of all so I decided to do something about that. I crouched down next to him so I could whisper in his ear. "Watch this."  
I made a snowball and aimed it at Legolas, who was prancing a few meters in front of the Fellowship. I threw it at the back of his neck at he was startled so much, that he fell over face first and sunk a meter or so into the snow. Making a Legolas-shaped hole into the snow. He stuck his head out glared at me. I just down-lowed a laughing Gimli and stuck my tongue out at him.

About two hours later, at least I think it was, it's hard to tell when sun is hidden among the clouds, a mighty blizzard had picked up and I was getting kind of cold now. I heard something, but wrote it off as the howling wind. Legolas was more worried and went up ahead a few paces.  
"There is a fell voice on the air," he stated urgently after a few moments.  
"Saruman!" Gandalf and I jumped to the same conclusion.

A thunder-clap sounded and rock and ice rained from above. "Take cover!"  
"He's trying to bring down the mountain. Gandalf! We must turn back!" Aragorn demanded urgently.   
"No!" Gandalf refused. He raised his voice and spoke against Saruman. What he actually said was lost on me. It was a form of Sindarin from far before my time.

Saruman's voice was clearly audible now and seemed to come from all directions. A bolt of lightning crashed into the mountaintop above us and buried us under a cover of snow.  
I frantically began to dig around me but when the avalanche hit us, I had fallen over and now I didn't know which way was up.  
Luckily for me, Legolas did know which way was down and dug me up after hearing me struggle. I was shivering and pressed myself against him to share what little body heat either of us still had.

"We must get off the mountain! Make for the Gap of Rohan and take the West road to my city!" Boromir suggested through the wind.   
"The Gap of Rohan takes us too close to Isengard," Aragorn argued.   
"We cannot pass over the mountain. Let us go under it. Let us go through the Mines of Moria," Gimli offered.  
Gandalf seemed concerned. The only thing I was concerned with, was keeping myself warm. My cloak wasn't nearly thick enough to withstand this weather. Saruman-induced cold was too much, even for Elves.

"Let the ring-bearer decide."  
Frodo was shivering in Aragorn's arms, he looked to Sam, who was also shivering in Aragorn's arms. He then looked to Merry and Pippin, who were shivering in Boromir's arms. His eyes also went to Legolas and me. We weren't nearly as bad off, but still shivering.  
I don't know why Gandalf made such a big deal out of it. On the one side, we would get a warm welcome with food and drink, on the other, near-certain death. Easy choice if you ask me.

The fact that it worried Gandalf also worried Frodo. Though he ultimately decided to take the logical way out. "We will go through the mines."  
Gandalf nodded. "So be it."


	12. Down down down in Goblin Town again.

The journey down the mountainside was much easier than the way up. It gradually became warmer until we reached the secret entrance to Moria.  
"The Walls of Moria!" Gimli exclaimed in awe. He began tapping the wall with his axe, similar to how Nori and Dwalin had investigated the secret door to Erebor. Gandalf did the same with his staff.   
"Dwarf doors are invisible when closed," Gimli explained to those who weren't familiar with the doors of Durin.  
"Yes, Gimli, their own masters cannot find them if their secrets are forgotten," Gandalf went on. 

Legolas had grown impatient. "Why doesn't that surprise me?" He didn't like dark caves much. Neither did I for that matter. But much like Erebor, Moria wouldn't be dark at all. Rather the opposite. He'd visited often enough to know that.  
Gimli huffed annoyedly at Legolas's comment and went on tapping the wall. I sat down and leaned my back against a tree. "Erebor's hidden entrance reflects moonlight, perhaps this door is similar," I suggested as the wall next to me lit up in the faint moonlight, without being noticed by either Gandalf or Gimli.  
"It reads, 'The door of Durin, Lord of Moria. Speak, friend, and enter.'" Gandalf translated to those who could not read it. 

"What do you suppose that means?" Merry asked.   
"It’s simple. If you are a friend, you speak the password and the doors will open," Gandalf explained confidently before putting his staff against the door and going past all the door-opening spells he knew.  
I sat back in on a rock, letting out a long sigh. "This could take a while," I warned the others.

Gandalf was had been busy trying to open the door for a while now. I was watching intently, trying to help where I could. Comforting Merry a little when Gandalf had snapped at him for instance.  
Frodo seemed to be hit with realisation. "It's a riddle!" He turned to me with a smile. "Speak friend and enter. Dawn, what's the Elvish word for friend?" he asked.  
"~Friend~. But wouldn't Dwarves use-" I was cut short by the doors swinging open and revealing darkness. "Apparently not."  
You would think the Dwarves would use Khuzdûl to lock their doors. Or a big silver key.

As we walked inside, the only light in the room came from outside or my ring, and it was not bright enough to actually see where we were going, so I thread carefully.   
"Soon, Master Elf, you will enjoy the fabled hospitality of the Dwarves; roaring fires, malt beer, red meat off the bone! This, my friend, is the home of my cousin Balin. And they call this a mine. A mine!" Gimli laughed, elbowing Legolas in the hip. His wince, I imagine, was only audible to me.

The sudden light from Gandalf's staff made me stop dead in my tracks. Dwarvish skeletons were strewn across the room, still in their rusting armour. Their corpses were littered with dusty arrows and other weapons. The one right in front of me was slumped against the wall, his head was stuck on an axe that was embedded in the wall. I grimaced at the sight and but I couldn't get myself to look away.  
"This is no mine. It's a tomb!" Boromir acutely remarked.  
Gimli and I were distraught, though my composure was better. Legolas pulled an arrow out of a shield. "Goblins," he hissed, before throwing it down.  
I drew my bow and backed away with the rest of the Fellowship. "We make for the Gap of Rohan. We should never have come here," Boromir hissed.

Suddenly Frodo could be heard screaming in the back. A little too far in the back for my liking. When I turned around, I saw him being dragged by the ankle by a gleaming tentacle. I rushed out after Aragorn and Boromir.   
Aragorn cut Frodo free and pulled him to safety. Boromir and I were keeping five tentacles collectively at bay. The monster was done playing though, and about twenty other tentacles shot out of the lake.  
It grabbed Frodo again as the rest of us were fighting it. I jumped from tentacle to tentacle trying my hardest not to slip and fall. I stabbed and slashed at the writhing limbs, trying to get closer to Frodo. When I got a clear shot, I threw a dagger at the tentacle holding Frodo. That made the monster drop him into Boromir's arms.

"Into the mines!" Gandalf ordered. I accepted that I would not be seeing the dagger again and fell back. Legolas shot an arrow at the beast, which gave us just enough time to flee into the mines before the creature made the doorway collapse. Sealing us in and plunging us into darkness with the only light being the weak glow from the piece of the Arkenstone on my ring.

Gandalf illuminated the room with his staff and addressed us ominously. "Now we have but one choice: we must face the long dark of Moria. Be on your guard, there are older and fouler things than the Orcs in the deep places of the world."  
We started our four-day trek through Moria. The further we went, the more apparent it became that there was not a single Dwarf in here that still breathed, aside from Gimli. Both he and I found this particular part of the journey rather challenging.

Soon after Erebor had been rebuilt, Balin took it upon himself to recapture Moria in addition to Erebor. He took a company consisting of himself, Oin and Ori among others with him and he succeeded in taking back the ancient kingdom. Balin received the title "Lord of Moria" and it all went well for quite a few years.  
Then, without any reason or provocation known to us, his colony suddenly cut all contact with the outside world. Including the other Dwarven kingdoms.

Well, I guess we knew the reason now, but that didn't make me feel better.

Looking at the state of the corpses, Moria had fallen a long time ago. I was ashamed that we never even attempted to re-establish contact outside from a few letters that were left unanswered. We had never gone out to investigate, nor had any other city.

We had reached the abandoned mines and so far, no one had really dared to say a word. Though I dare say many hours had passed already. Gandalf decided to cut the tense silence. "The wealth of Moria was not in gold or jewels but Mithril," he said.  
Gandalf moved his staff so that it's light would fall into the deep void below. Other than it being very abandoned, there was an eerie blue glow coming from the Mithril veins in the rock.  
"Thorin had a shirt made of the stuff that he gave to Bilbo," I told the Fellowship.  
"Oh, that was a kingly gift," Gimli noted.  
"Indeed. I never told him, but it is worth is far greater than the value of the entire Shire."  
I heard a quiet gasp from behind me, where the Hobbits were.

At least two days must have passed by now, but it was hard to tell. Moria was dark and devoid of life. There were only the deeply unsettling rooms with scattered Dwarvish remains and Goblin markings on the walls and pillars, written in blood.  
We hit a fork in the road that seemed to upset Gandalf. While he sat on the central platform, staring and evaluating each of the three passages, the rest of the Fellowship sat huddled against the back wall in a tense silence, our hands on our weapons and ready to strike at a moment's notice. Frodo lingered between Gandalf and the rest of us.

The sound of a small rock falling down into the abyss made me jump and Legolas look around nervously. The rest didn't seem to have heard it. Frodo did feel uneasy enough to consult Gandalf about it.  
"There's something down there," he whispered.   
"It's Gollum," Gandalf replied quietly.   
"Gollum!"   
"He's been following us for three days."  
"He escaped from the dungeons of Barad-dûr?" Frodo asked in disbelief. Still so quietly that aside from himself and Gandalf only Legolas and I could hear him.   
"Escaped. Or was set loose. And now the Ring has drawn him here. He will never be rid of his need for it. He hates and loves the Ring, as he hates and loves himself. Sméagol’s life is a sad story," Gandalf continued the conversation on a normal speaking volume. "Yes, Sméagol he was once called. Before the Ring came to him, before it drove him mad." 

"It’s a pity Bilbo didn't kill him when he had the chance."   
"Pity? It was pity that stayed Bilbo’s hand. Many that live deserve death, and some that die deserve life. Can you give it to them, Frodo?"   
There was a slight pause.  
"Do not be too eager to deal out death in judgment. Even the very wise cannot see all ends. My heart tells me that Gollum has some part to play yet, for good or ill, before this is over. The pity of Bilbo may rule the fate of many." 

"I wish the Ring had never come to me. I wish none of this had happened."  
"So do all who live to see such times, but that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us."  
A very inspirational quote there Gandalf, do you know which way to go yet? Because I sure am ready to go.

"There are other forces at work in this world, Frodo, besides the will of evil. Bilbo was meant to find the Ring. In which case, you also were meant to have it. And that is an encouraging thought." After a slight pause, he addressed all of the Fellowship.   
"Ah! It's that way." He pointed to the tunnel on the right. We all scrambled to our feet, ready to put a lot of distance between ourselves and this room.  
"He's remembered!" Merry sighed in relief.   
"No. But the air doesn’t smell so foul down here. If in doubt, Meriadoc, always follow your nose!"

After a while, we walked into a chamber where the light of Gandalf's staff did not reach the walls. "Let me risk a little more light." He muttered before letting the staff shine more brightly. The light revealing us to be in a room that seemed to be bigger than the whole Lonely Mountain. There were hundreds of columns positioned in straight lines. Gandalf's light reached neither ceiling nor wall.  
"Behold! The great realm and Dwarf-city of Dwarrowdelf."

"Well, there's an eye opener and no   
mistake!" Sam exclaimed.  
Ahead of us, there was a smashed door. It was littered with black arrows and two Goblin skeletons remained lying near the opening.  
Gimli rushed forward and I quickly set in my pursuit.  
"Gimli! Dawn!"  
Gimli and I burst through the door at the same time. The room was littered with both Dwarvish and Goblin skeletons. The room was quite large, though it could in no way compete with the size of the previous room. A single beam of light shone from a small hole in the wall and fell onto an unburied coffin.

"No. No. Oh no," Gimli cried, kneeling before the coffin. Tears sprung out my eyes as well as I read the text on the coffin. "Here lies Balin, son of Fundin, lord of Moria," Gandalf read aloud as I fell to my knees. I wasn't sobbing like Gimli, but I was a long way from happy. "He is dead then, as I feared," Gandalf added.  
Gimli was singing a farewell to Balin as Gandalf lifted a heavily beaten and battered book from a corpse. I recognised the hair and beard to be Ori's. We should have investigated the silence. The unanswered letters. It was too late now. Much too late. When Gimli broke down again, I filled in for him, singing my verses about the great deeds and misdeeds of Balin lord of Moria.

"We must move on. We cannot linger," Legolas whispered urgently. Gandalf carefully opened the book. The pages cracked and broke as he turned them. He began to read. “They have taken the Bridge and the second hall. We have barred the gates, but cannot hold them for long. The ground shakes. Drums. Drums in the deep. We cannot get out. A shadow moves in the dark. Will no one save us? They are coming.”  
I had stood up and looked at Gandalf with concern. A shadow in the dark was a quite worrying warning. I also felt even worse that my own friends had died like rats in a cage. 

From a corner of the room, a loud clang could be heard and the whole Fellowship turned in its direction. There was a small stone well that Pippin had almost fallen in. He must have pushed something heavy off it by accident. Pippin cringed at every sound that arose from the well. Our group stood rooted to the spot in silent anger.  
"Fool of a Took! Throw yourself in next time, and rid us of your stupidity!" Gandalf yelled angrily after the echoes of the falling weight couldn't be heard anymore.  
"Don't be so harsh Gand-" I silenced myself as a new sound arose from the well. Drums. Drums in the deep.

"Fool of a Took!" I repeated Gandalf.  
Frodo drew his sword and spread Sting's blue glow across the room.  
"Orcs!" concluded Legolas.  
I grabbed the nearest axe and tried barricading the door with it. Boromir Legolas and Aragorn followed my example. "Stay close to Gandalf!" Aragorn ordered the Hobbits.

Ah yes, now I remember. Mithril glows blue in the presence of Goblins.

I drew my bow and aimed it at the door. Legolas copied me again. The door rattled and we could hear axes hacking away at it. A hole emerged on Legolas's half and he immediately shot the Orc behind it. Boromir looked through it. He turned back. "They have a Cave-Troll," he reported, sounding more annoyed than anything else.  
"Oh, fantastic," I chimed in.  
"Let them come! There is one Dwarf yet in Moria who still draws breath!" Gimli growled. He was standing on top of Balin's coffin dual-wielding two rusty axes.  
Noting Gimli's permission, the door shattered and many Goblins came pouring in. I shot four of them before I threw myself into the fray with a drawn sword. I don't know if it was these or their ancestors who killed Balin, Ori and the others, but someone was going to pay the same price. And it sure as death wasn't going to be me!

As I slid the last Goblin off my sword, the Cave-Troll came lumbering in. It was the largest I'd ever seen, and it was bent on our blood. I took out my bow again and shot it through the eye. It screamed for a bit, but all in all didn't seem very bothered by it. If anything, his blows became more ferocious.  
More Goblins streamed in, wanting to impale us on their swords. None of us were in the mood for that however. I saw Sam striking them down with a pan, even though he should have had a sword on his person. Legolas was accurate even though he didn't focus on one Goblin long enough to see if he was. Aragorn and Boromir were fighting with their backs against each other.  
I was having a silent panic attack. This fight uncannily reminded me of the Battle of the Five Armies. Even though we seemed to have the upper hand now. I fought the Goblins less than I fought to stay on my feet as long dead faces flashed before my eyes.  
"Aragorn! Aragorn!" Frodo's voice drew me back to the battle of the present. 

Frodo was lifted of his feet and slammed against the wall by the tip of the Troll's spear. He was moaning in pain. I roughly pushed the Goblin whose blade was at my throat aside and drew my bow. I shot the Troll in the back of the knee so that he dropped Frodo, as he angrily turned around, Legolas released an arrow into its throat and it dropped dead. I kicked the Goblin whom I had taken down a notch on my priority list in the face and rushed to Frodo's side, where Aragorn already was.  
Frodo appeared to be dead already, but I started a chant regardless. I don't give up easily.  
Before I was even halfway, Frodo coughed and took a deep breath. The golden light faded from my fingers as my incantation stopped dead. "I'm alright. I'm not hurt," Frodo calmed us.

I held up the spear and looked from Frodo to the head and back. The point was large enough to fully impale me and still be sticking out on both ends.  
"You should be dead. That spear would have skewered a wild boar," Aragorn was at least as shocked as I was.  
"I think there’s more to this Hobbit than meets the eye." Gandalf leaned on his staff and looked fondly at Frodo.  
Frodo opened his shirt to reveal a silvery blue chainmail underneath. "Mithril! You are full of surprises, Master Baggins," exclaimed Gimli.  
Then, from the well and from the door, the sound of the drums erupted again.


	13. I'm useless when upset, but let's pretend otherwise.

Everyone looked around with panic in their eyes and nightmarish visions began to fill my eyes again. Tears too, but I was able to keep them at bay. I'll cry later, when I'm alone. Now I needed to focus on all of us getting out of here alive, I wouldn't have the others wait for me because I was having a mental breakdown.  
Legolas seemed to know that something was up. He really did know me well. Before he could say anything however, Gandalf had regained his senses and ushered us all out. "To the bridge of Khazad-Dûm!"   
We ran like we were the wind that didn't blow down here. "This way!" Gandalf cried.  
Goblins scuttled down the pillars. I drew and loaded my bow again and fell back to make up the rear, and to shoot any goblin who came too close.

A deafening roar sounded, halting us in our tracks. The goblins didn't move either for a second, but when a large fire-like light slowly moved toward us, they turned on their heels and fled the scene.  
"What is this new devilry?" Boromir asked, with his sword drawn in a fighting stance. In fact, all of us looked ready to fight. And to bolt.  
The fire intensified, and a large shadow sprung from it. Its eyes were as fiery as the flames it surrounded itself with and it held a flaming sword and whip. The room shook and rocks fell at another roar.  
"A Balrog; a demon of the ancient world! This foe is beyond any of you!" Gandalf explained fearfully.

I'll take him with my bare hands.

"Run! Quickly!"

Or maybe not. Wait for me!

We flew faster than the wind now. We burst through the door and halted just in time not to tumble down a dizzyingly high staircase with no guardrail.  
"Lead them on, Aragorn! The bridge is near." Gandalf leaned heavily on his staff. Aragorn looked concerned and hesitated. "Do as I say; Swords are no more use here!"  
Aragorn gave a curt nod and threw himself down the stairs, the rest of us following closely.

We reached a chasm and without hesitation, I picked up the nearest Hobbit, whom happened to be Sam, and jumped over. When I landed, I set him down and jumped back to grab Pippin. Legolas had jumped over with Frodo and Boromir with Merry. Gandalf jumped by himself. Leaving only Aragorn and Gimli behind.

Goblins were shooting at us. Legolas and I shot back, but they were far away. Legolas released his arrow first. No more Goblin arrows came from that spot. I released second, and a Goblin tumbling down the wall was my sign that my arrow hit its mark.

Aragorn made to grab Gimli but he protested: "Nobody tosses a dwarf!" And he jumped over it himself, almost making it too.  
"Not the beard!" he yelled as Legolas caught him rather unceremoniously. I pulled him back by his arms and we ran on.

We reached the bridge. It was precarious, very thin and you could fall off at the slightest gust of wind.  
I grabbed a Hobbit's hand, I don't know whose, and ran over the bridge. Behind us, the wall exploded in a fiery blaze and revealing the Balrog standing behind it, waving its whip around angrily.  
I ran on and reached the other side, along with the rest of the Fellowship. Bar Gandalf.

He stood on the middle of the bridge, facing the monster with his sword and staff raised to either side. "You cannot pass!" he told the beast, who took no heed and came closer anyway, tauntingly cracking its whip.  
"Gandalf!" yelled Frodo. Aragorn held him by the shoulders to stop him from running up to Gandalf. Boromir held my wrist in effort to do the same, but it was unnecessary, I wasn't overly tempted on throwing myself at the pair of clashing deities.

"I am a servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the flame of Arnor. The dark fire will not avail you, flame of Udûn!" Gandalf yelled.  
The Balrog stood up to its full height, which filled the chamber all the way to the ceiling. It spread out its wings and reached from wall to wall. As if to say that the dark fire had worked out pretty well for him so far. Gandalf looked tiny in comparison.  
"Go back to the shadow!"  
The Balrog swung his flaming sword at Gandalf. Gandalf blocked it with his sword, Glamdring, and the burning blade shattered into hundreds of molten pieces.   
"You shall not pass!" Gandalf yelled with so much determination that it shook the mountain itself. The Balrog put a foot on the bridge as to challenge Gandalf, which was a big mistake, Gandalf slammed his staff on the bridge and the ground beneath the Balrog fell into the depths, taking the Balrog with it. Gandalf's staff had turned to dust, which was an unlucky sacrifice.  
Gandalf trembled with exhaustion and leaned on his sword. He had deserved this moment of rest, and many more.

It didn't last though, with a crack of the whip, the Balrog had caught Gandalf by the ankle and dragged him down. He now hung by his hands.  
"Gandalf!" Frodo and I screamed in unison.  
"Fly, you fools!" Gandalf ordered us before he let go and fell into the abyss. I tried to fight myself free of Boromir's grasp, he was helped by Legolas now and both were now pulling me with them out of the mountain.  
The three of us made up the rear, just in front of us was Aragorn carrying a wildly kicking Frodo.

When we were outside, I was released. I tears streamed down my face as I sat down on a rock. Legolas put his hand on my shoulder and I covered it with mine. I knew he needed consoling too, though he would not ask for or show he needed it.

"Legolas, get them up," Aragorn asked urgently. He pressed my shoulder before he pulled his hand away. I took this moment to sink my head into my knees and cry in sorrow.  
"Give them a moment, for pity's sake!" cried Boromir.  
I dried my tears, which was useless, and got up. I strode over to Gimli, who was sniffling himself. I pressed my head against his for moment and stood next to him, waiting for the rest to get up.  
"By nightfall these hills will be swarming with Orcs! We must reach the woods of Lothlórien. Come Boromir, Legolas, Gimli, get them up. On your feet, Sam." The ones who hadn't yet, reluctantly did as they were told.

Frodo was already walking off. "Frodo? Frodo!" Aragorn called. I went over to Frodo and put my hand on his shoulder. He turned around, numb with grief. I brushed a tear away from his face with my thumb, as I would with my children when they were younger. He suddenly burst out sobbing and buried his face into my stomach. I grabbed my cloak with both hands and wrapped my arms around him. Shielding him from the world as I let him cry. I consoled him until he calmed down enough to breathe again.

The rest of the fellowship looked on shocked. It wasn't hard to tell that none of them were parents. I didn't want to treat Frodo like a child, much like he didn't want to be treated as one, but it just sort of happened.   
"Take a deep breath, Frodo." I said softly, so that only he could hear it. "He'll always be with you, I promise."  
I tried to keep my voice steady as I consoled Frodo, but I knew it was far from convincing. He tightened his grip on me and pressed himself further against me. He was trying to console me too, for all that he could do. I don't know how much he knew about Gandalf and I's relationship, but he did know that I had been his apprentice for longer than he had been alive.   
When I thought back on it now, Gandalf must not really have needed an apprentice after all. He and the other Wizards beings older and more powerful than most others, with the exception of some, combined. My presence also brought the council to an inconvenient number, and since I was banished from Elven settlements at that time while also being an Elf, I couldn't even assist Gandalf everywhere he went. On top of that, I knew Gandalf was lying when he told me I had an affinity for magic. More than most, perhaps, but I couldn't compare to other Wizards and magic wielders.  
Gandalf had found a depressed young woman in the trash and decided to take her with him.

He had been a better father to me than Thranduil had been after the death of my mother.


	14. The eyes of a bat and the ears of a snake.

In the fading light of dusk, we entered the forest of Lothlòrien. Our walk was silent if you didn't count the sound of our footsteps or the occasional sniffle.  
Despite himself, Legolas was very excited to be here. He was waxing poetic about how Lothlòrien was the most beautiful dwelling of our people. It was gorgeous, I agreed with that, but I couldn't appreciate it, the loss of Gandalf was still too recent for me to feel anything but a numb pain.

I saw movement in the trees above, but couldn't make out if it was potentially dangerous. "Stay close, young Hobbits. They say a great sorceress lives in these woods. An Elf-witch of terrible power. All who look upon her fall under her spell and are never seen again!" Gimli warned the Hobbits. Frodo looked slightly afraid.  
Suddenly, Elves broke from the trees and surrounded us with their bows drawn. They did this silently enough for Gimli not to notice. "Well, here’s one Dwarf she won't ensnare so easily. I have the eyes of a hawk and the ears of a fox!" As he turned his head he looked right down an arrow.  
"I find myself disagreeing," I said as I raised my hands slightly. 

"The Dwarf breathes so loud we could have shot him in the dark," the captain said to Aragorn.  
"~Welcome Legolas, son of Thranduil, and Kahlahari, queen under the mountain,~" The captain greeted the two of us.   
I nodded my head to him. I had met him before, when I was younger, no doubt. Suddenly it came to me. His name was Haldir. I'd seen him around Mirkwood a couple of times, but never spoke to him other than to state business.  
"~Our fellowship stands in your debt, Haldir of Lòrien,~" Legolas said politely.  
"~Oh, Aragorn of the Dúnedain, you are known to us.~"  
"~Haldir~."

Our greetings were all fairly pleasant, despite still being held captive, but the better part of the Fellowship didn't know what we were saying. That really bothered Gimli, judging from what he said next. "So much for the legendary courtesy of the Elves! Speak words we can also understand!"  
"*Behave yourself, Gimli,*" I ordered him in his native tongue, so that Haldir couldn't understand. Though he might have guessed that I was telling Gimli off.

"We have not had bad dealings with the Dwarves since the Dark Days." Haldir was confused at Gimli's hostility. He motioned for his men to put their weapons away when he realised that they might come across as hostile.  
"And you know what this Dwarf says   
to that? *I spit on your grave!*"  
"*Gimli! Could you possibly be any ruder?*" I scolded him.  
Aragorn took him by the arm. "That was not so courteous," he scolded sternly.

Haldir decided to ignore threats he didn't understand and moved on to Frodo. "You bring great evil here." He turned back to Aragorn. "You cannot go further."  
Haldir walked off but Aragorn went after him, explaining our situation and how desperately we needed their help. 

"Come, she is waiting." Aragorn had evidently convinced Haldir that we needed their help. Galadriel's more specifically.  
We were led through the darkening forest. But where Mirkwood was shadowy and creepy after sunset, Lothlòrien only got more beautiful. In the starlight there was all kinds of shimmering. In the trees, in the ground, in the water, in the sky. No wait, those are actual stars.

We reached the city gate, where two Elves were indeed waiting for us. Celeborn and Galadriel. I vaguely recognised them from when I was a child. Compared to Mirkwood or even Rivendell Elves, Lothlòrien Elves were by far the most beautiful, arguably the wisest too. I guess the only thing us Mirkwood Elves have got going for us is the wine. And the women, if you want to believe Thorin and Kili.

"The enemy knows you have entered here. What hope you had in secrecy is now gone. Nine there are here, yet ten there were set out from Rivendell. Tell me, where is Gandalf? For I much desire to speak with him. I can no longer see him from afar," Celeborn spoke.  
None answered. The grief of losing Gandalf with the added shock of the enemy knowing where we were had silenced us all.  
"Gandalf the Grey did not pass the borders of this land. He has fallen into shadow," Galadriel answered barely audibly.  
"He was taken by both shadow and flame. A Balrog of Morgoth. For we went needlessly into the net of Moria," Legolas explained sadly. No one looked up at Galadriel and Celeborn in a mix of shame and grief. 

We should have never gone to Moria. I should have known about its dangers.

"Needless were none of the deeds of Gandalf in life. We do not yet know his full purpose," Galadriel comforted us.  
"Do not let the great emptiness of Khazad-dûm fill your heart Gimli, son of Gloin. For the world has grown full of peril, and in all lands, love is now mingled with grief." Galadriel looked at Gimli as she addressed him.   
She let her gaze wander across the faces of the Fellowship, resting on Boromir for a moment. Boromir shrunk away a bit and evaded her eyes. Galadriel looked at him for a moment longer before she turned to me. "~Gandalf was as a father to you, was he not, young queen of Erebor?~" her voice sounded in my head. I looked into her eyes and tried to concentrate on telling her that he was. If I couldn't send it, she must have understood it somehow. "~Do not push away your own need for grief because there are those younger than you grieving too. You knew him best of all the Fellowship.~" She was probably right, but it wasn't so easy. She probably knew that too. I looked at the ground without answering.  
Galadriel turned to Celeborn, who spoke to no one in particular. "What now becomes of this Fellowship? Without Gandalf, hope is lost."

I was afraid of that. I didn't even know the way to Mordor. I severely doubted if many of us did. Perhaps Aragorn or Boromir, but none of the rest.

"The quest stands upon the edge of a knife. Stray but a little and it will fail, to the ruin of all. Yet hope remains while the company is true. Do not let your hearts be troubled. Go now and rest, for you are weary with sorrow and much toil. Tonight, you will sleep in peace," Galadriel invited us.  
We were led to an area with soft couches upon which to sleep and we were handed food and drink. In the distance, Elves were singing a mournful song for Gandalf.  
"What do they say about him?" Sam asked Legolas.  
"I have not the heart to tell you. For me, the grief is still too near," he answered. Sam then turned to me, but I merely smiled weakly, wordlessly telling him that I felt the same way about it.  
"I bet they don’t mention his   
fireworks. There should be a verse   
about them." Sam stood up and took a deep breath.

"The finest rockets ever seen   
They burst in stars of blue and green   
Or after thunder, silver showers   
Come falling like a rain of flowers.   
Oh, that doesn’t do them justice   
by a long road." Sam sat down again, frustration and disappointment evident on his face.  
"It was wonderful, Sam," I complemented him.

I sat close to Legolas and Gimli and Aragorn sat on the couch opposite us. The Hobbits were huddled together with the four of them. Boromir sat alone around the corner of the tree, out of sight but not out of earshot.   
Aragorn stood up and approached him. "Take some rest. These borders are well protected."

After a bit of silence, Boromir spoke. "I will find no rest here. I heard her voice inside my head. She spoke of my father and the fall of Gondor. She said to me, “Even now, there is hope left.” But I cannot see it. It is long since we had any hope." There was a brief silence again before he continued. "My father is a noble man, but his rule is failing, and our... our people lose faith. He looks to me to make things right, and I would do it, I would see the glory of Gondor restored. Have you ever seen it, Aragorn? The White Tower of Ecthelion, glimmering like a spike of pearl and silver, its banners caught high in the morning breeze. Have you ever been called home by the clear ringing of silver trumpets?" he spoke wistfully.   
"I have seen the White City. Long ago."   
"One day, our paths will lead us there, and the tower guard will take up the   
call 'the Lords of Gondor have   
returned.'" 

I half heartedly ate a little and drank some water before I curled up in a corner of the couch and closed my eyes. Sleep did not come easily and when it did, it was far from restful. Nightmares disturbed my sleep.

-~-

I was there again. On the ground. Pressed into the dead bodies of two of my kinsmen. The Battle of the Fives Armies was raging around me. Had it really been this desperate? Every Elf or Dwarf was outnumbered at least ten to one, and those numbers were working their way even further against our favour very quickly.   
The Orc that trapped me raised his sword above his head and plunged it into my chest.  
But that wasn't enough to release me from my nightmare.  
My next vision was right after I'd killed Azog. I tried to remember chants and songs of healing as Thorin lay bleeding. Nothing came to me. Was I always this incompetent? I remembered one, and sung it over and over. It did nothing. I was too late. Thorin had passed.  
Another vision sprung into my head. Thorin came to get us after I ran after Bilbo. Smaug rounded the corner and made eye contact for a mere moment before he incinerated us.

-~-

I awoke only because someone was shaking my shoulders. I was drenched in cold sweat and took panicked and irregular gasps to substitute normal breaths.

"~It's alright, Dawn, you're safe.~" Legolas's worried voice sounded far away. His hand on my shoulder woke me up properly. "~I never knew you were one for nightmares.~"  
"~Since the Battle of the Five Armies I've had them every now and then. They've been coming back recently.~" I calmed my breathing and looked around at the sleeping faces of the Fellowship. "~Shouldn't you be asleep too?~" I asked with a raised brow.  
"~Gimli's snoring kept me up, how you survive with a Dwarf next to you every night is most impressive,~" Legolas joked.  
"~He is not really a snorer. A pillow over your ears usually does the trick when he's caught a cold,~" I laughed quietly. "~It's worth trying, you really do need to get some sleep.~" I laid back down before letting my gaze go over the Fellowship once more. I shot back up. "~Where is Frodo?~"  
"~Be calm, motherbear, he said he was going to get some water,~" Legolas tried to calm me down. "~Now I'm going to try your trick. You should try to get a more restful sleep too.~" Legolas let himself fall backward and put a pillow over his face.  
"~You're on my blanket, you horse's ass!~" I tried pulling it free.  
Legolas lifted his pillow to look at me. "~Horse's ass? What is happened to Orc-kisser?~"  
"~He's sitting on my blanket, move your ass.~"

He chuckled and let me get the blanket out from under him before he turned his back to me and stuffed his head under the pillow. I put my leg over his side but he grabbed my foot and tried to tickle it so I quickly pulled it back and closed my eyes to go back to sleep. This time it was far more peaceful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter I had prewritten so updates will likely be few and far between from this point on.
> 
> I will finish it.
> 
> Someday...


	15. Fingerpainting with Saruman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At this point, the writing of this fic will be er... up to standard. Whose? I don't know.

I had another dream that night. Much less disturbing in visuals, but more worrisome in implications. In it, I saw Galadriel, and she spoke to me. Her words did not exit her mouth, yet they reached my mind all the same.  
"You were a Wizard's apprentice once. Gandalf let you tap into a small part of his power so it could be used by your hand. Now that he has fallen, he has taken that piece of magic with him into the shadows. You can use it no longer."  
With her message delivered, Galadriel dissolved into the mist, and I remained to roam the ethereal and foggy plains until I awoke at first light in the morning.

The Fellowship, or what was now left of it, was given cloaks of Lorièn make and provisions for our journey south. The boats we were loading them onto were of white wood, carved and shaped to give a likeness to swans.  
"Never before have we clad strangers in the garb of our own people," Celeborn said. I adjusted the brooch of my new cloak. "May these cloaks help shield you from unfriendly eyes." I had a feeling these cloaks were at least slightly magical or enchanted. It was bittersweet to be able to sense magic, but not use it. How did everyone manage it?

Legolas was loading food onto the boat Merry and Pippin were sitting in, which was objectively not a very well-thought-out plan. He saw the Hobbits look curiously at the bread, which I knew he was very fond of, so I wasn't at all surprised when he launched into his sale-speech. "Lembas. Elvish waybread. One small bite is enough to fill the stomach of a grown man." I wasn't too keen on it myself. It just tasted like bread with nothing on it, but on the road, it was better than a great many things. I had tried to make it before, but never really gotten the hang of it.  
"How many did you have, Pip?" asked Merry, looking at Pippin with some amusement.  
"Four," answered the younger Hobbit. Legolas responded by tilting his head and raising one of his eyebrows a little. If you had spent as much time with him as I had, you knew this particular expression usually meant "what the fuck?"

We were all packed and got into the boats. Boromir joined Merry and Pippin. Frodo went into one, followed by a wobbly Sam, who was followed by Aragorn. I got into the last free boat, followed by my brother, who helped Gimli get in.  
"Every league you travel south, the danger will increase. Mordor Orcs now hold the eastern shore of the Anduin. Nor will you find safety on the Western bank," Celeborn told us from the riverbank. "Strange creatures bearing the White Hand have been seen on our borders. Seldom do Orcs venture into the open under the sun, yet these have done so."  
The White Hand meant no good. It was the White Hand of Saruman, who, Gandalf had told me, had fallen to Sauron's side.  
Celeborn gave Aragorn a dagger. It was beautiful and intricate and precise. A deadly work of art.  
"You are being tracked," he said as he took his hands away. "By river you have the chance of outrunning the enemy to the falls of Rauros."

Aragorn hadn't been the only one to receive a gift from the wiser Woodelves. Legolas had gotten a bow suited to his skill. Merry and Pippin had each scored a dagger of Noldorin. Sam got a thin rope that would never break. Boromir was given a sword that cut down Orc like brittle trees, which was quite similar to Glamdring and Orcrist. Gimli had asked for nothing but a hair from Galadriel's head, so that he may preserve her beauty in his mind. She gave him three. I bet Fëanor would be rolling in his grave for it.  
I myself had gotten a circlet. Galadriel promised that it would lessen the terrors plaguing me at night. I was looking forward to that.  
Galadriel held out a phial to Frodo. "I give you the light of Eärendil. Our most beloved star."

With that, we cast off down the river. Gimli was at the front of our boat, and I in the back. Legolas paddled it from the middle.  
"I have taken my worst wound at this parting, having looked my last upon that which is fairest. Henceforth I will call nothing fair again unless it is her gift to me," Gimli told us, as he looked past us back at the forest.  
"What was her gift?" Legolas asked. His voice would not betray it to Gimli, but I could hear his curiosity.  
"I asked her for one hair from her golden head. She gave me three." I could practically feel Legolas melt at that.

The trees slowly gave way to barren plains. There were dark clouds of birds circling the skies. I saw Aragorn look at them suspiciously.  
The plains gave way to rocky cliffs, into which two enormous statues were carved. They must have been three hundred feet in length. "The Argonath..." Aragorn mumbled. "Long have I desired to look upon the Kings of old... my kin."  
Legolas and I guided our boat through the narrow gap between the feet of Aragorn's ancestors, staring up in awe.

I wondered if these statues had secret stairways. Surely stonework of this magnitude could only have been done by Dwarves? Then they must have secrets to explore. Not that we had time to go out and explore them...

Moving on. About a mile up was a small lake. We hit shore before we crossed it and made camp.  
One thing that Moria hadn't changed about the dynamics of our group, was the mostly one-sided arguments Boromir and Aragorn had.  
"Minas Tirith is the safer road, you know that!" Boromir sounded equally exasperated by Aragorn's unwillingness to hear him out and his unwillingness to participate in their argument. "From there we can regroup. Strike out for Mordor from a place of strength!" As Boromir listed reason after reason of why we should be heading for his city, reasons that sounded appealing to my half-listening ears, Aragorn seemed to be paying about as much attention as I was. Given he was Boromir's conversation partner, I felt bad for Boromir.  
"There is no strength in Gondor that can avail us," he dismissed the other man mid-sentence.  
"You were quick enough to trust the Elves," Boromir shot back accusingly. Legolas and Gimli busied themselves on lightening the mood for the Hobbits, and leaving the quarrelling humans to their business. I decided to mind my own business too. Sort of. I was still listening to the argument, but I also had my own problems to deal with for the time being.

"Have you so little faith in your own people?" Boromir was desperate for Aragorn to at least consider his suggestion. He was not someone you can simply brush off by letting the middle of his sentence interrupt the start of yours. "Yes, there is weakness, there is frailty. But there is courage also, and honour to be found in men." Boromir sighed. "But you will not see that..."

Right. My own problems.

Was the dream I had last night just that, or had Galadriel spoken to me again? I tried making a flower grow from the ground. Usually a simple trick, and worked wonders when trying to be flirtatious with my husband while having no actual way with words.  
I had expected it to work, but it seemed I had no such luck. Gandalf really had been letting me use his magic for the better part of the last two centuries.

That might be a pickle.

As I waited for a good moment to announce my lack of magic, Boromir had resulted to personal attacks. "You are afraid!" I silently applauded him, as I would have done that much earlier. "All your life, you have hidden in the shadows, afraid of who you are, afraid of what you are." Aragorn did not wear his offense on his face, but it was clear from his gestures and his words that he had taken it.  
"I will not lead the Ring within a hundred leagues of your city."

I chose this, as the opportune moment to interject. "Great, now that we have established where we're not going, I have a small announcement." The energy with which I halted the bickering quickly faded as I got to the actual announcement. I sighed. "Galadriel came to me in a dream last night. She told me that Gandalf had been letting me use a part of his magic. Now that he's... gone... I can no longer use it."

It was silent for a bit. Legolas shifted a bit to face me. "Perhaps it was just a dream," he suggested. "You have not been well since he fell," he added, concern weighing his brow down.  
"That's what I thought at first, until I tested it just now. No response that I could sense. I am perfectly fine, Legolas."  
"What do you suggest we do about it? You're the best chance of healing wounds we've got," Boromir wondered.  
"Well, I suppose, unless one of you has magical abilities they wish to confess to, the only thing we really can do is to not get reckless."

Aragorn nodded and looked out over the lake. He gestured to the other bank. "We cross the lake at nightfall, hide the boats and continue on foot. We enter Mordor from the north." Everybody seemed to accept that plan to some degree.  
"Oh yes," Gimli started glumly. "Just a simple matter of finding our way through Emyn Muil, an impassable labyrinth of razor-sharp rock. And after that, it gets even better. A festering, stinking marshland as far as the eye can see."  
Legolas and I gave each other a look. We were very much not looking forward to the marshes. Maybe we would find a trick in the labyrinth that would have us sacrifice something dear to us. Legolas and I would say goodbye to our senses of smell.

"That is our road. I suggest you take some rest and recover your strength, master Dwarf," Aragorn said.  
"Recover my-" Gimli huffed indignantly. There were no further complaints or suggestions, though I suspect we'd all like to give some. Such as not taking the smelly swamp route.

As we all got back to setting up shop, Legolas took me aside, looking worried. "Do you get this... uneasy feeling, every time you look to the forest?" he asked. I looked over my shoulder into the woods. At a glance, they seemed normal enough. As I turned my ears to better listen, I too got a sense of uneasiness.  
"It is... silent." That was strange to say the least. Normally, you could hear all manner of sound coming from a patch of woodland. Even with the racket of campmaking, you should at least be able to hear distant birdsong or squirrels darting away, but aside from the leaves, there was nothing.  
"The silence gives me a sense of foreboding. I would not remain here any longer given the opportunity." Legolas looked at me intensely, but also unsure.  
"Second opinion shares your sentiment," I agreed.  
"I am going to tell Aragorn."

Legolas darted off, leaving me staring into the woods for a while longer before I turned back to camp. Aragorn seemed to naturally fall into the leader-shaped hole in our group. There were some objections, an unspoken one from me. Out of everyone in the Fellowship, I was the only ruling lord, and not taking that into account, Legolas and I had the most experience in leadership. Gimli, who at home headed a smithing company, had the most experience leading a small group. Boromir, as heir to the steward of Gondor, was very likely to have rigorous leadership training. Yet, even with the head start of experience we had, the only real leader among us was Aragorn.

Legolas addressed him. He was tense, but showed it in a way that only I could see, meaning he tried not to.  
"We should leave now," he said with a sense of most immediate urgency.  
"No, Orcs patrol the eastern shore. We must wait for cover of darkness," Aragorn argued. He was noticeably friendlier with Legolas than he was with Boromir.  
"It is not the eastern shore that worries me." Legolas turned his head back to the forest; which Aragorn took as a sign that he should look too.  
"A shadow and a threat have been growing in my mind. Something draws near, I can feel it." He looked back at Aragorn, who was still staring into the forest. Legolas laid his hand on Aragorn's shoulder, silently saying that if he could be more specific, he would be. Aragorn look back, and seemed to know what he meant. He also looked uneasy.

Merry dropped a pile of kindling at Gimli's feet, who piled it on the campfire and busied himself trying to start it, which was a hassle without magic. Merry looked around, doing a headcount. "Where's Frodo?" he asked.  
Sam, who had fallen asleep, jumped awake shortly before all panic broke loose.

We shot off into the woods in all directions, looking for Frodo and Boromir, who was also missing. As I got a little distance into the woods, I halted, listening. I heard the panicked sounds of my friends all around me, isolating that, I still did not hear the sounds any forest should have. What I did hear was more unnerving than a silent forest. More and heavier footsteps than could belong to any of us. I heard Aragorn yell in the distance.  
"Run, run!"

And run I did, though not to safety. I drew my swords and ran towards the sound of trouble. As it got louder, I started to smell it too. I did not immediately recognize the scent, but I could tell you that it smells bad. 

When I burst into the clearing, I saw that Aragorn had been surrounded. I quickly tried to draw the attention of his attackers by killing them. Ones neither Aragorn or I touched dropped with arrows protruding from them, meaning that Legolas had also reached us. Not too soon after, Gimli's battle cry and the sounds of his axe colliding with armour announced that he had reached us too.  
These Orcs were unlike any I had ever seen. It was a sunny afternoon, yet these Orcs did not seem the least bit bothered by the sunlight.  
What I did know about them was that they bore the White Hand of Saruman. That meant trouble. These were the weird Orcs Celeborn had warned us about.

We were not having a good time taking them on, even with the four of us. We worked together as well as we could, but we were outnumbered some big figure. None of us seemed to be too seriously hurt though. Then the sound of a horn cut through the battle.  
"The horn of Gondor!" Legolas called out, having severely more trouble making himself heard over the sound of battle.  
"Boromir!" said Aragorn.  
We fought our way towards the sound, which continued to come, until it didn't. We had fought free on one front and upped our pace. The horn sounded again, though it was faltering.

We burst into a clearing where I saw Boromir on his knees with three arrows embedded in his chest. I ran to him while Aragorn set his sights on the Orc that had shot Boromir. The rest was retreating. I reached Boromir and guided him to the closest tree. At least twenty dead Orcs lay around him. His horn had broken in two. Boromir slumped and looked at me with wide eyes. "They took the little ones," he gasped.  
Aragorn also reached us as I desperately tried to figure out what to heal first. Aragorn pressed his hand against a gash on Boromir's shoulder to slow his blood loss. I took one of the arrows in my hands.  
"Frodo," Boromir said. The panic that could not reach his voice was plain in his eyes. "Where is Frodo?"  
I gave the arrow a pull. It did not come free. Boromir winced with pain.  
"I let Frodo go," Aragorn told Boromir as I bat his hand away so I could heal his shoulder.  
"Then you did what I could not." Boromir's eyes filled with regret. "I tried to take the Ring from him."  
"The Ring is beyond our reach now."  
I began the spell, but as no light streamed from my eyes, I remembered that it was futile, nothing would happen.  
"Forgive me, I did not see. I failed you all." Boromir voiced the thoughts running around my head to lay bare his own regrets.  
"No Boromir, you fought bravely. You have kept your honour," Aragorn assured him. He was outwardly calm, but I could feel his heartbeat go mad.  
If I couldn't do magic, I could at least do something, so I tried to bind the wound on Boromir's shoulder. He put his hand on mine.  
"Leave it. It is over." He turned his face to the sky as the weight of his words clamped down my heart. "The world of men will fall and all will come to darkness and my city to ruin." He paused a drew a shaky breath. "Aragorn..."  
"I do not know what strength is in my blood, but I swear to you, I will not let the White City fall, nor your people fail," Aragorn promised.  
"Our people, our people..."  
Aragorn pressed Boromir's sword into his hands, giving him a warrior's send-off. Boromir smiled and his grip on both my hands and his sword tightened. "I would have followed you, my brother, my captain, my king."

Boromir's grip slacked and his smile relaxed. He was gone. I withdrew, giving Aragorn space. As I walked backwards, I felt Legolas's hand on my back stop me. He knew that I did not look death in the face without doing anything. This time though, I had been helpless to stop it.

"Be at peace, son of Gondor." Aragorn bent down and kissed Boromir's forehead. Then he stood up. "They will look for his coming from the White Tower, but he will not return."  
Aragorn turned around and smiled sadly at us.  
Legolas and Aragorn carried Boromir to one of the remaining boats and laid him in it, facing up with his sword in his hands. Gimli laid his horn by his side. Aragorn pushed the boat onto the lake, and we watched as it went over the edge of the waterfall.

Legolas pushed the remaining boat into the water. "If we are quick, we will catch Frodo and Sam by nightfall," he said. I watched, still a little dazed, as Frodo and Sam got out of their boat on the other side and disappeared into the woods. Legolas turned from the boat and looked at Aragorn, who was also staring at the trees where the young Hobbits had disappeared.  
"You mean not to follow them?" Legolas asked, surprised to say the least.  
"Frodo's fate is no longer in our hands," Aragorn replied.  
"Then it has all been in vain. The fellowship has failed," Gimli lamented.  
"Not if we hold true to each other. We will not abandon Merry and Pippin to torment and death. Not while we have strength left," Aragorn said as he took Legolas and Gimli's arms. He looked at me where I sat on a rock near the shore. I walked to them and took Their other arms.

Aragorn went to our half-made camp. "Leave all that can be spared behind." He pulled a knife out of his pack and strapped it to his boot. "We travel light." I wordlessly followed his example, strapping on my extra quiver.  
"Let's hunt some Orc."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that concludes the fellowship.


	16. My six decades year old line got stolen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two Towers time!! Will probably be taking some liberties because they're not the focal characters at all times anymore.

It was a late and quiet afternoon, for as far as a Dwarven city-kingdom could have quiet afternoons. Dwalin and Thorin were mostly left alone, which in Thorin's books meant it was quiet. Both heroes of Erebor wore disguises as to not be as quickly recognised as they would be without one. They had just left the bustling commerce centre and were almost to the balcony looking out to Dale.  
"Dawn threw up this morning," Thorin blurted out. Dwalin looked at him with an eyebrow raised.  
"So?" People threw up for very little reason all the time. Dwalin wasn't at all that worried and Thorin had a habit of being paranoid when it came to his wife's well-being. It was almost like he periodically forgot that she was immortal and would survive whatever illness would potentially be thrown at her with very little problems.  
"Dawn doesn't get sick, she's Elvish. The last time she threw up was after she was shot with that poisoned arrow," Thorin reminded Dwalin, worry thick on his voice.  
"And she recovered from that, didn't she? If she can survive being shot at, she'll survive whatever bug's gotten hold of her now." Dwalin felt bad for his paranoid friend. If only he worried about his own health as much as he worried about the health of the general.  
"I'm just worried, is all. She hasn't eaten a thing either."  
Dwalin pulled a face when he remembered that he and Dawn had been trying for a kid for a while now. If Elves really had such good immune systems, it had probably worked.  
"Look, if it's eating you up that much, have Dori give her a check-up," he advised. Thorin looked like he would take him up on it this very day.  
  
"Dear, I am fine," I tried to convince Thorin when he came in with Dori. Normally, he would have come over for a cup of tea, but he had a suitcase of medical equipment with him, so I immediately knew what this was about.  
"No, you're not," Thorin said. "You threw up, that's not supposed to happen," he argued.  
"You threw up this morning?" asked Dori, thinking he had misread Thorin's lips. It would be difficult to read from where he was standing, so I clarified for him, as I was sitting on a chair facing him.  
"Yes. Haven't eaten anything since." Dori looked like he would like to slap me but respected me, or more accurately, my title, too much to do so.  
"See? I told you you should have eaten. You are immortal, not indestructible," Thorin said chastisingly.  
"Hey, I'll survive a few days of not eating!" I argued. Thorin looked ready to give me a piece of his mind when Dori, who was annoyed by us already, even though he was deaf, interrupted.  
"Yes, yes. Argue about it later, I've seen enough."  
"You have?"  
"More than. Say, weren't the two of you on a quest to get you pregnant?" Dori said, rather bluntly. Thorin and I were shocked, shocked I tell you, to hear this. It was true, of course, but we still tried our best to look shocked and confused. Dori didn't buy it, because we were both red as lobsters and too giggly for Dori's question to be answered with anything but a resound yes.  
  
"First I hear of it," said Thorin, who had crossed his arms but leaned his chin on his hand in thought.  
"What? Where did you hear that?" I asked, completely and utterly aware that what Dori had said was true.  
"Would such a thing even be possible?" Thorin questioned aloud, with the sideways smirk in my direction such a question legally entails. He also ignored the fact that it was possible, as Kili and Tauriel had proven.  
"Intriguing." I copied his pose and smirk.  
Dori sighed and rolled eyes, playing along for now. "Might just be your nephews spreading rumours, but if you tried recently, you may have succeeded. Want to take a test?"  
It was silent for a while. Thorin and I looked at each other ready to explode with excitement.  
"I would, yes."  
  
The test came back with the result that I was, indeed, pregnant. At the moment, we were having dinner with the extended family, which meant Kili, Tauriel, Kahlahari, Fili, Thorin, and me. We were talking about whatever, and I saw Thorin nervously tap his fingers to the table, waiting for a moment of silence. When it finally did come, he made use of it.  
"Dawn is pregnant," he blurted out.  
Kili choked on his drink. "What? Whose?" he asked.  
"His, you imbecile!" said Fili, giving Kili a knock to the back of the head.   
"Who else?" Tauriel asked him, both amused and bewildered by the lack of intelligence her spouse displayed.  
"Tactful, love," I commented quietly. I found it funny, and was glad they reacted to it so well, and unsurprised of course. I was just happy we weren't sharing a dinner table with my father; I don't think he'd recover from choking on his wine. Tauriel heard me, I'm sure, but she was polite enough to laugh into her wine.  
"Well, I had to tell them somehow, didn't I?"  
  
"Whaat? You hear that Starlight?" Kili asked his daughter. She was twenty, and seemed to take after her mother more than her father in aging. She was by all accounts, barely old enough to understand what we were talking about. "You're getting a new auntie or uncle." This confused Kahlahari. As far as she knew, aunties and uncles were supposed to be older than you, not younger. She furrowed her brow thinking about it.  
"They'll be more like a cousin, don't worry," I told the young girl with a wink. That seemed to fit her idea of family dynamics better. "Can I play with them?" she asked with excitement in her eyes.  
"Yes, of course. Once they're a little older," Tauriel told her.  
  
"Looks like you're not going to be king after all, ha!" Kili teased his brother, poking him in the side with his elbow repeatedly.  
"I figured that ship had sailed," Fili laughed, trying to block his brother's arm.  
"What are you on about?" Thorin asked, feeling rather out of the loop, same as I.  
"We had this bet going-" Kili began, before Tauriel interrupted him.  
"I suggest you stop him there."  
"Kili, I suggest you stop there."  
"Fine, fine," said Kili. "Just know I'll be spending the whole week with my little Starlight, because Fili will be doing all my work."  
  
-~-  
  
Aragorn lay with his ear to the ground and his eyes closed, listening for the sound of footsteps from the Orcs we were chasing. "Their pace has quickened," he informed us as he got up. "They must have picked up our scent, hurry!" he called over his shoulder as he sped off, some of us closer behind than others.  
"Come on Gimli!" called Legolas, as Gimli was trying to scale the rocks that Legolas and I jumped over with ease. Gimli was having a tough time keeping up with us, but we couldn't let ourselves fall too far behind. Merry and Pippin were counting on us.  
"Three days and nights pursuit," panted Gimli, when he had made it over the steep part. "No food, no rest, and no sign of our quarry but what bare rock can tell."  
"If we waste time complaining, we won't even have that," I said. So, we ran on along the hilltop, periodically stopping to listen. Aragorn was a skilled tracker and we did not once have to make a U-turn because we had been going in the wrong direction. Perhaps he had been steering us lightly, because I guarantee that Gimli would have hit him in the knees with his axe handle.  
  
We reached the place where the hill sloped down again and halted at the edge. Legolas stared into the horizon while I took a swig of water. Aragorn was catching his breath and Gimli was just now reaching us. After he had caught his breath, we went into a narrow valley that had clearly been recently traversed by a large group of people. Aragorn bent to his knees and pulled something from the mud. I came closer to inspect. "Not idly do the leaves of Lorien fall," he mumbled as he brushed some dirt off the brooch of one of our captured friends.  
"They may yet be alive," Legolas hoped.  
"If they are, they are not far away," I said. "The smell of this pass is poignant." Aragorn and Gimli seemed to find that an overstatement, but Legolas nodded.  
"I thought that was you," he joked.  
"You're one to talk."  
  
We ran on again just as Gimli tumbled into the pass with a groan. "Come, Gimli! We are gaining on them!"  
"I am wasted on cross-country!" he loudly complained. "We Dwarves are natural sprinters, very dangerous over short distances!"  
"Dangerous? I remember your uncle Bombur planting himself face first into a door after he had overtaken me." Gimli made a sound of dismissal and I smiled to myself. We made our way quickly up a hill to gain a vantage point. Night was beginning to fall, but if we could spot them in the distance, we knew what would lie ahead of us in the night.  
  
"Rohan, home of the horse lords," said Aragorn when we had reached the top to overlook a mostly smooth land scape of small hills. "There's something strange at work here. Some evil gives speed to these creatures. Sets its will against us." Aragorn clearly could not see the cloud of dust on the horizon. I gave Legolas a boost up the rocky pillar and climbed after him myself.  
"What do you see, Legolas?" Aragorn asked.   
"The Uruks turned North-West. They're taking the Hobbits to Isengard!"  
"To Isengard?" I panted as I reached the top. Legolas gave me a hand and pulled me up so I could see for myself.  
"To Isengard," I concluded.  
"Isengard?" Gimli asked, not surprised, but deeply worried.  
"Saruman..."  
  
"Less time to waste than would be ideal, let's go!" Legolas and I jumped down, which wasn't pleasant on my ankles, but we had a party of Uruk-Hai to crash before they reached their destination.  
"Keep breathing," Gimli told himself. "That's the key. Breathe."  
"They run as if the very whips of their masters are behind them," Legolas complained.  
We did not stop running all day, but it seemed that the Uruk-Hai did not either. When night fell, we took our first rest in four days. And when I say rest, I mean that we took a breather because we all agreed that if we didn't wash ourselves soon, we wouldn't be able to discern the smell of the Uruks from our own. There was a small body of water nearby that we all washed ourselves in, we ate a few bites of lembas and then we set off into the night, with only mild complaining.  
  
At sunrise, Legolas halted in his tracks so suddenly that I could not stop in time and slammed against him. "What are you doing?" I apologized. Legolas's gaze was trained on the dawning light.  
"A red sun rises. Blood has been spilled this night," he explained. I found it hard to stay focussed after such a long time of running, but with what I could muster, I found that I agreed. This was an unusually red sunrise.  
Aragorn stooped to the ground again to see if he could still feel the footsteps of our prey, but before he could conclusively say anything, the neigh of a horse warned us to get out of the way.  
  
A large delegation of horseback warriors galloped past us. Aragorn got out from our hiding place and called after them. "Riders of Rohan! What news from the Mark?" We got out too and stood near him as the horse riders turned around at full speed and came towards us. They quickly surrounded us and pointed their spears in our direction, which I wasn't a fan of. Aragorn raised his hands to show that he meant no harm, but the rest of us weren't so sure about that yet.  
"What business do two Elves, a man, and a Dwarf have in the Riddermark?" the captain demanded. "Speak quickly."  
"Give me your name, Horsemaster, and I shall give you mine," Gimli challenged. The captain got off his horse and strode up to Gimli. Aragorn put his hand on Gimli's shoulder like a sarcastic "well done."  
"I would cut off your head, master Dwarf, if it stood but a little higher from the ground."  
  
None of that.  
  
With lightning speed, Legolas drew his bow and aimed it at the captain. In the same time frame, I got between the rider and Gimli. I drew my sword, laid it against my lower arm and pointed it at his face. "You would die before your stroke fell!" Legolas threatened. I followed him up.  
"Try it, see how far you get," I challenged, while more spears gathered around our heads. They seemed to have the same sentiments. "~You stole my line,~" I joked at Legolas.  
Aragorn beat down both Legolas's bow and my sword and gave us stern looks.   
"I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn," he introduced himself. "This is Gimli, son of Gloin. Dawn, queen-general under the mountain, and Legolas, son of Thranduil. We are friends of Rohan, and of Theoden, your king." Ours faces did not all-together express friendliness, but that was to be expected after one of our own was threatened by insult.  
  
The captain nodded lightly. "Theoden no longer recognizes friend from foe," he sighed, taking his helmet off. "Not even his own kin." He made a dismissive gesture and his men pulled their spears back. "Saruman has poisoned the mind of the king and claimed lordship over his lands," he explained. I sheathed my sword. "My company are those loyal to Rohan, and for that, we were banished." He paused briefly.  
"The White Wizard is cunning. He walks here and there they say. An old man, hooded, cloaked, and everywhere his spies slip past our nets." That did not really sound like Saruman. The first bit at least. It was just like him to have lots of clever spies, but he didn't go out much.  
"We are no spies," Aragorn explained more calmly than he looked. "We track a party of Uruk-Hai westward across the plain. They've taken two of our friends captive."  
"The Uruks are destroyed, we slaughtered them during the night." That was both a relief and a worry.  
"But there were two Hobbits, did you see two Hobbits with them?" Gimli asked, sharing in my concern.  
"They would be small, only children to your eyes," Aragorn clarified. Not many people outside of the Shire knew about Hobbits, which was probably a good thing. You can't be invaded if no one knows you exist.  
The captain awkwardly shifted his weight around before he turned his eyes back to Aragorn. "We left none alive." This news did not land well with me, but I did not know how to react. "We piled the carcasses and then burned them." The captain pointed at a column of smoke in the distance.   
"Dead?" Gimli did not believe his ears. The captain nodded apologetically. "I am sorry." He whistled. "Hasufel, Arod, Eru!" Three riderless horses came to his call. A chestnut one, a white one, and a brown one. "May these horses lead you to better fortune than their masters. Farewell." He put his helmet back on and mounted his horse again. "Look for your friends, but do not trust to hope. It has forsaken these lands." He then turned to his company. "We ride north!" At that, we were left with three horses and the news that there was a good chance that our friends were dead.


	17. Prevent injury by checking for severed heads before kicking helmets into orbit.

We hastened to the smoke column as fast as the battle-tired horses could take us there. We knew there was a very small chance of it, but Merry and Pippin might have escaped. The good fortune of Hobbits could always surprise me, and seeing as Frodo had sucked up all the Shire's bad luck for the next five decades or so, they might have been able to get away. This was not the Shire though.  
  
We halted near the smouldering mound of Orc-carcasses. There was an Uruk's head on a spike that was a little shaken by the wind. The smell was intense in both the sense that it was strong and in the sense that it stank. We dismounted and Gimli immediately started pawing through the heap with his axe. He froze for a moment before he pulled out a soot-covered scabbard that was too detailed to be Orc made. My heart immediately sank through my shoes into the earth. "It's one of their wee belts," Gimli said quietly as he held the scabbard up to us.  
The rest of us weren't shocked, but we were devastated. We had feared the worst, but the confirmation that our fears had been true was not the ending we had hoped for.  
"~May they find peace in death,~" Legolas said to himself. I hurried to Gimli and inspected the sheath closer, hoping that our collective eyes were deceiving us. I let out a shaky defeated sigh when I saw that was not the case. Aragorn kicked a helmet and sent it flying forty feet before he dropped to his knees with a scream of pain and anguish. As a severed head fell out of the helmet, I added physical pain to that too.  
Gimli looked from the belt to me. "We failed them."  
  
Aragorn seemed to have noticed something on the ground. "A Hobbit lay here," he said with a spark of hope in his voice. "And the other." He sat back and looked for further tracks in what to me looked like dry dirt. "They crawled," Aragorn continued as he followed the tracks, crouched low to the ground. Gimli, Legolas, and I followed him. "Their hands were bound." I wanted to ask Aragorn how he could tell, but I didn't want him to lose sight of the trail that I didn't see, so I did not.   
Aragorn straightened up and followed the tracks for a short distance before he crouched again to pick up the answer to my question. "Their bonds were cut," he noted as he held up a piece of rope. He dropped it again before he moved back to where he said they were laying, and then back away from the slaughter of the previous night.  
"They ran here," he gestured over a bit of grass that looked just as trampled as the rest. "They were followed." What hope there had previously been in Aragorn's observations turned to worry. Aragorn picked up his pace. "Their tracks lead away from the battle." He halted as he reached the edge of the woods where we caught up to him. "Into Fangorn Forest..." he observed what we were all worried about.  
"Fangorn," whispered Gimli. "What madness drove them in there?"  
"The same that will drive us in there: desperation," I said as I led the way into the forest with a brisk pace. "They may yet be alive in there, come on!" I called out over my shoulder. Aragorn and Legolas looked at each other for a few seconds before they followed me with Gimli close behind.  
  
The trees were packed together so tightly that it seemed as if they tried to prevent anyone from entering. Legolas and I jumped up to sturdy branches and helped Legolas and Gimli up. Fangorn became very dark very fast too, but I reckon Aragorn was the only one disadvantaged by that. After a few leagues, he leaned against a tree and winced whilst grabbing his foot.  
"Are you hurt?" I asked him.  
"I think I broke something back there," he said. "I should not have kicked that helmet, Dawn."  
I crossed my arms. "What do you expect me to do about it, break your other foot?" I remarked with a raised eyebrow. He made an "ah" sound as he remembered I couldn't help him.  
"Well, tell us if it gets worse and we'll see what we can do about it then, but I fear there's not much we can do." Aragorn nodded and pushed himself off the tree, soldiering on. He tried not to limp and keep the pace in his step, but I could tell he was in pain every time his foot hit the ground. I wish I could help him.  
  
A while later, Gimli spotted a leaf with a wet and dark stain on it. He put it in his mouth and immediately spat it back out again. "Orc blood," he confirmed my suspicions.  
"I could have told you that," remarked Legolas, surprised by Gimli's lack of ancient forest wisdom. "If you didn’t know what it was by sight, why did you put it in your mouth?"  
Gimli stopped wiping off his tongue to answer. "I wanted to give the lad a break," he said in a way that suggested he was trying to be subtle about it. As subtle as a Dwarf related to the royal family of Erebor can be.  
"At this rate, Dawn and I will have to carry both of you to stop you from hurting yourself," Legolas huffed.  
"I'm fine, Legolas, I can walk," breathed Aragorn.  
"You're not fine, you're very pale and you're breaking a sweat," I said, putting my hand on his neck to check if he was running a fever, which, thankfully, he wasn't. "Do you really not want to be carried; I believe Legolas just volunteered."  
"I can walk," he insisted. It wasn't that we weren't idiots ourselves, but as the two idiots led the way, Legolas and I shared a look of frustration.  
  
Aragorn suddenly halted and crouched down. "These are strange tracks," he told us. The tracks were strange, because even I could tell they were tracks. Big ones. Something so big shouldn't be able to move in this forest. "The air is so close in here," Gimli complained. Legolas stood on a tree root staring into the quite short distance. "This forest is old," he said as his ears twitched to and fro, taking in all the sounds. "Very old... full of memory." I closed my eyes and listened too. I heard the groaning of the trees. They did not seem very happy. "And anger," I remarked. I didn't know what their anger was targeted at, but I sincerely hoped it wasn't our intrusion.  
Gimli was about to make the forest's anger our problem and drew his axe with a challenging grunt. I put my hand on it to make sure he didn't put it to use.  
"The trees are speaking to each other," Legolas concluded with a gasp as the groaning grew deeper and louder.  
"Gimli," Aragorn hissed. "Lower your axe."  
Gimli made a sound of protest but quickly complied and held up his hands in surrender.  
"They have feelings, my friend," my brother informed Gimli. Gimli fully lowered his axe now. Despite being taken for his word, Legolas elaborated. "The Elves began it, waking up the trees, teaching them to speak."  
"Talking trees," said Gimli. "Hm." After a second of pause, and the subsiding Gimli's initial fearful respect, he questioned the logic of it. "What do trees have to talk about?" he asked. "Except the consistency of squirrel droppings." A single tree close by made a low humming sound that might have been an amused huff.  
  
Suddenly, a feeling washed over me, but I couldn't place it. It was both unease and familiarity, but it made my system scream danger at me. Legolas tried to catch my gaze. When he did, I saw that he was feeling something similar. I nodded, and took a knife from my belt. He took out his bow. "~Aragorn, something is out there,~" he said.  
"You might want to take out your axe again," I told Gimli with a mild urgency.  
"~What do you see?~" Aragorn asked, drawing his sword.  
"The White Wizard approaches," Legolas whispered.   
  
Why the feeling of familiarity, body? I haven't seen or spoken to the man in more than six decades!  
  
"Do not let him speak, he will put a spell on us," Aragorn whispered back. He held his sword ready, as Legolas pulled back an arrow. I made ready to throw my knife as Gimli tightened the grip on his axe. "We must be quick," Aragorn continued quietly as I felt the presence of the White Wizard loom closer. As his light filled our vision, we turned and sprung into the offensive. Gimli threw his axe but it shattered, which made for two axes he had shattered flinging them at something magical and more powerful than he was. Legolas's arrow was deflected and Aragorn's sword became so hot it started glowing red and he had to drop it. I let my arm fall back to my body, dumbfounded.  
  
This was not Saruman.  
  
We all shielded our eyes from the White Wizard. "You are tracking the footsteps of two young Hobbits," he remarked.  
"Yes, where are they?" asked Aragorn, who also seemed to realise this was not Saruman.  
"They passed this way the day before yesterday. They met someone they didn't expect." The Wizard paused. He was still cloaked in too much light to see who he was, but with my knowledge of the other Wizards, I had my suspicions, and a giddy feeling tugged at my face. Logically, this could only be one person. "Does that comfort you?" the Wizard asked.  
"Who are you?" asked Aragorn. "Show yourself!"  
  
The Wizard slowly called back his obscuring cloak of light, so that we could finally see his face. "Gandalf!" I laughed, approaching him, feeling truly elated for the first time since he fell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DiD yOu KnOw ViGgO mOrTeNsOn BrOkE hIs ToEs WhEn He KicKeD tHaT hElMet?????????


End file.
